it's a boy!
by bs13
Summary: When an alien baby falls from the sky and into her life, Lena realizes she has a lot to learn - namely, how to deal with not only a baby with super powers, but also the mysterious new neighbor who seems to know more than she's letting on. AU.
1. one

**this was basically inspired by a tumblr post that said "A baby's laughter is one of the most beautiful sounds you will ever hear. Unless it's 3am. And you're home alone. And you don't have a baby." i lamented not being able to explore lena's POV in my baby fic "you and me" and an anon on tumblr suggested i just write something small about it anyway? so obviously i didn't keep it small. i actually used this baby fic to distract me from that same baby fic but i don't see it coming out too long - maybe 3, 4 chapters max. it's going to be a short one.**

 **also: this is basically a what-if-clark-landed-on-earth after kara. but way, wayy more AU in the sense that 1.) kara is not supergirl but has powers, 2.) lena is not a CEO but rather an author, 3.) lex luthor is still very anti-alien but has no super powered nemesis, and 4.) baby clark is just that - a baby**

 **p.s. i'm over on tumblr at pippytmi if you want to check it out - i write some stuff that i don't post here & try to take prompts but i'm awful at anything not AU :(**

* * *

It's 3 A.M. and she hasn't slept a wink but Lena _knows_ she can't be hallucinating.

The sound is soft, faint, but she hears it nonetheless, as if it's coming from behind her. She checks her computer to see if some sort of ad or video is playing, but no; she's been stuck on the same Word document for the past two hours, and no other browser is open. She pushes back the curtain to her bedroom window to see outside, but the street lamps don't offer any answers; they barely reach the edge of the sidewalk, leaving the rest of Lena's house in darkness.

In retrospect, the whole staying-up-all-night doesn't give her much credibility. Her next action is call Jess and tell her everything: that she had just been sitting at her desk, working, and then she heard a baby laugh. A _baby_.

Jess sits quietly and listens to everything. And then she sighs. "Lena," she says. "Are you drunk?"

"I'm not drunk." Lena scowls. "I'm offended you think I am."

"Okay," says Jess placatingly, well-versed by now in how to handle the situation. "Then please go to sleep. Your book's going to still be there in a couple of hours."

"But I heard a baby laughing, Jess," Lena repeats. "That warrants investigation, doesn't it?"

"Lena. I'm going to forgive you because you're just so white," Jess says, "but that's how horror movies start. _Please_ do not leave your house at"—here, she must look at her alarm clock to check the time—"3:15 A.M. Wait, this is worse than yesterday. Did you even sleep?"

"I slept a little." Lena taps her nails against her keyboard's keys, fingertips jittery. It hasn't helped that she's only consumed stale cereal and five cups of coffee in the last two hours. "Should I at least call the police?"

"They're not going to drive out there based on _one_ suspicious sound you heard."

"It was a baby laughing."

"I'm sure it was," says Jess, patronizing enough that Lena fights the urge to pettily hang up. "Or it's just your imagination. Let me guess—you're messing around with the idea of babies in your novel."

"That's...irrelevant to the point," Lena says. "I know what I—" She freezes, suddenly, as the baby laughter comes back. But this time it sounds like it's right outside her window. "Jess, I hear it again. _Listen_." She moves the phone cautiously close to the window, not daring to part the curtain just yet.

When she pulls the phone back to her ear, Jess is silent. Then, "Okay, that doesn't have to mean there's a baby out there. It could be a recording. Or some kids playing a prank."

"I'm going outside," Lena says, getting up out of her desk chair.

"Lena! Babies don't laugh that much. It's obviously someone messing with you and you're going to die and I'm going to listen to you being stabbed seventeen times in the throat and then I'll be scarred for the rest of my life—"

"Jess, just stay on the line," Lena hisses as she cracks open her front door. The chill of the night air creeps in and she steps out onto the walkway, concrete cold and rocky under her bare feet. She walks around the edge of the house, feet sinking into the dewy grass as she listens, helplessly, for anything.

Jess stays blessedly quiet, murmuring something to the side of the receiver that Lena can't quite hear. Probably a prayer. Or a curse of Lena's rash decision making at 3 A.M.

Lena reaches the area where her bedroom window would be, but it's still too dark to see. She tries to inch her way forward as slowly as possible, calling out a cautious,

"Hello?"

In her ear, Jess's voice crackles to life. "And now you're alerting the murderers of your presence. Great. Have you ever even watched a horror movie? Or are you just dumb?"

Lena turns on the flashlight on her phone and lights up the empty grass. Her breath catches in her throat when she hears the laughter again, this time sounding like it's over her head, and she slowly pans her phone up over her head and sees a hovering—baby? Wait.

"Jess I'm going to have to call you back," Lena whispers, so light she's not sure if Jess heard, before she clicks _end call_ and stares up in horror. Whatever is floating by her roof, it's small and giggling and kicking its legs as if propelling itself through water.

And then it falls.

Lena is so disorientated she doesn't notice that she's on the floor until it's too late, and the floating thing—which looks and feels like a real life baby—is on her chest. The wind's been knocked out of her and the wet grass is beginning to seep at her pajama bottoms and, oh no, now the baby's crying shrilly. Lena, at this point, wishes it _is_ all a 3 A.M. hallucination.

Eventually she sputters out a breath and gets up, staggering to properly lift the baby who grips onto her T-shirt in a disturbingly strong way.

"What do I do with you?" Lena murmurs, but just then the baby drops their head, cheek flat against her shoulder, sniffling and miserable and Lena bites her lip and gives in.

(She takes the baby inside.)

It takes thirty minutes for Jess to get there, and that's mostly because it took Lena too long to call her in the first place. The baby still hasn't let go, whimpering pitifully against Lena's shoulder, probably scared—if not hurt—from the fall.

Jess lets herself in with the spare key; Lena barely even lifts her head up from the couch when she hears the front door open. Jess stands in the doorway for a moment, dressed in pajamas and holding a Walmart bag, and it would make for a hilarious scene if Lena weren't so relieved just to see her.

"Lena," Jess says slowly, "what the _fuck_."

Lena raises an eyebrow at her. "There are small ears here, Jess."

Jess shakes her head. "You know what? I don't want to know. I don't." She shuts the door behind her and starts to rustle through the bag, producing three different types of baby formula, two baby bottles, diapers, wipes, and a bottle of wine.

"You know the Walmart cashier must've judged you for that."

"It's 3 in the morning," Jess says, defensively hugging the bottle of wine to her chest. "They don't get to judge me."

"This," Lena says, looking at the baby—who seems to be relaxed now, head up off Lena's shoulder, eyes wide and marveling at the spinning ceiling fan—"is the weirdest thing we've ever done."

"Yeah, you kidnapped a baby, great job," Jess grumbles, setting the wine down before her words truly sink in and then she's whirling around in horror, saying, "I'm an accomplice, aren't I? I'm going to lose my job. I'm going to go to _jail_."

"Jess."

" _What_?"

"I think the baby's pooped."

Jess throws her hands in the air. "Great. Thanks. I can always count on you to reassure me, Lee," she grouses, but she helps Lena grab the stuff she needs and lay the baby out.

"This outfit is really impractical," Lena huffs as she struggles with the baby's dark blue onsie. "And flashy."

"You're one to talk, you've got yesterday's makeup all over your face." Jess pokes her head over Lena's shoulder as Lena undoes the baby's diaper and says in her best doctor impersonation (which is really just a bad British accent), "Congratulations, it's a boy."

Lena winces at how woefully unprepared she is for baby diapers. "Jess?" she croaks out through her disgust.

"Yeah?"

"Get the wine."

.

.

.

Lena isn't proud to say she hasn't left the house in a week.

Eventually she has to take the baby—who she and Jess have just been calling _the baby_ , no name—out with her when she goes to her editor's office. She doesn't know how old he is, but just by guessing, she'd say he is around six months; old enough to start eating baby cereal and stuff, so she takes him a little bit while she waits for Cat to come in.

Cat's secretary, Siobhan Smythe, is already there, tapping away at her keyboard keys and throwing glares in Lena's direction because the baby likes to yell. Not because he's upset or anything. Just to make noise, when he's excited. And he gets excited every time Lena feeds him another spoonful of baby cereal.

Carter Grant, Cat's son, is there too; likely Siobhan's picked him up from his dance class, because he's still wearing tap shoes. He's very interested in the baby, hovering nearby and begging to let Lena feed him. Lena lets him once or twice, and even indulges some of his questions.

"When did you get a baby?" Carter asks. "Is he yours?"

"He's my brother's," Lena lies. Carter doesn't have to know that she and Lex haven't spoken in years and for all she knows, he may actually have children by now.

"What's his name?"

Lena's eyes dart around the room helplessly and she says the first name she notices on a nameplate: "Clark."

"How old is he?" Carter pushes his face close to the baby's, entranced by the way he giggles.

"Um," Lena looks at Siobhan (who ignores the plea for help), "six months, I think."

"Are you keeping him or is your brother coming back?"

Thankfully, Lena is spared from answering the question when Cat finally comes striding out of the elevator, the sound of her heels echoing down the hallway. Lena nearly sags out of relief. The baby (Clark, she has to stick with that now), manages to smack his hand into the bowl in Lena's hands and smear cereal mush over her neck. Fantastic.

"Lena Luthor as I live and breathe," Cat says, removing the sunglasses off her eyes and surveying Lena—and Clark—curiously. "Should I ask?"

"It's been a long week," Lena says, dropping the messy bowl in a grocery bag that she unceremoniously shoves into her purse.

Cat, at least, looks at her sympathetically up until they get into her office. Then she's all business when she declares, "I take it this is your way of saying you don't have a manuscript for me."

"I just need more time," Lena says. "A month, at the very least."

"I'm not the one who needs to push you, Lena," Cat says. "You know you'll always have a deal with us. But if you keep delaying your next book, there's not much I can do for you. I'm just the head of this company. I don't have control of the board. And they already think a fall promotion tour will cost us too much money—assuming you can even get a book out before the fall."

"I'll have a book by the fall," Lena promises. She always feels small in Cat Grant's presence, but today she feels even more inadequate than usual; the cereal on her neck has begun to dry and Clark is squirming, fussing to be picked up. She's a mess and she knows it, but she wishes—not for the first time today—that Jess had taken the baby today.

"I have complete faith in you," Cat says, "but you know I can't shield you forever. Your mother—"

"Please don't call my mother," Lena interjects, breaking one of the unspoken rules of the universe: don't interrupt Cat Grant. Ever. But it feels necessary to object to _this_ ; she's twenty-four, not ten, and she shouldn't have to veto her mother's involvement in her job.

"I was going to say," Cat's eyebrow raises; a warning, "that your mother has been trying to buy into my company. The board loves her money, but I know Lilian Luthor, and she's not someone I wish to be affiliated with."

Lena's mouth falls open in mortification. "Oh God," she says. "I'll—I'll talk to her, I'm so sorry."

"Frankly, I don't care if you do or don't," Cat says. "But I thought you'd appreciate the head's-up. Listen, don't stress about your mother. I can handle her. If you need to stress about something, stress about your novel."

"Somehow I think I have room to stress for both," Lena says dryly, and she looks down at Clark. "And then some."

.

.

.

"He's floating."

"I know, Jess, you said that already," Lena groans, digging frantically through her closet in hope that she'll somehow summon the stepladder that's likely in storage.

"He's _floating_. Does this not freak you out?!" Jess shakily balances on the edge of the couch and tries to reach for Clark, who is content hovering in midair and chewing on the ear of the teddy bear Jess brought him earlier.

"I've seen him floating before," Lena huffs. "It's not exactly new."

"Right, but I chalked that up to your drunkenness."

"I _wasn't_ drunk."

"Okay," Jess says, "but you're pretty defensive for a supposedly innocent woman."

"Can you reach him or not?" Lena gives up, slamming the closet door in disgust and surveying the scene before her again.

Clark giggles from overhead, moving just out of Jess's grasp by kicking hard enough that he floats shakily through the air. Jess fruitlessly keeps reaching, but Clarke steers clear from the couches—aka her only vantage points.

"Should I get the broom or something? Maybe we can swat him down."

" _Jess_."

"Do you have a better idea?" Jess flops down onto the couch with a sigh, brushing her sweaty hair off of her forehead. She looks exhausted, and rightly so; she's just gotten home from a long shift and Lena feels bad for calling her over in the first place.

"We can't just wait for him to fall again," Lena says. "Last time I cushioned the fall, but this time..."

"Well, at least you have carpet."

"...not _helping_ , Jess."

Just then, there's a knock at the door. Jess's eyes widen. "Oh my God it's the police."

Lena is sure the police aren't really at her door, but her heartbeat quickens anyway. Whoever is at the door _cannot_ see Clark. She sure as hell doesn't know what to do with him, but she's seen enough movies to know that turning him over to the government or something will only end badly.

"Hide him," Lena hisses, putting on some shoes. "It's probably just my mother."

"How am I going to hide him?!"

Lena cracks open the door, prepared to send her mother away, but her spiel vanishes the minute she realizes that it is not actually Lilian at the door. A young blond woman stands at her door instead, smiling nervously and rearranging a pair of glasses on her face.

"Hi," the woman says with a sheepish half-wave, "I'm moving in next door, and—I know this is going to be very cliché, but I was wondering if I could borrow a cup of sugar?"

Lena hasn't opened the door very much, but she risks opening it a little wider. "Sugar?" she echoes, mind still stuck on Clark's situation.

"It's move-in day," the woman says, gesturing over to her house; movers are indeed hard at work, taking boxes off of a large black truck. "I bought a bunch of black coffees from down the street, but I didn't get enough packets of sugar. I'm really sorry to bother you, but black coffee just isn't my thing."

"Sugar," Lena repeats, blinking. "Yeah. No. I can get you some." And she shuts the door in the woman's face before she can get another word in, hurrying to the kitchen.

"Who was it?" Jess asks, wandering in after her, broom in hand.

"A neighbor," Lena replies, taking the broom away with a scandalized glare. "Please tell me you didn't hit him with this."

"I nudged him. Gently."

Lena sighs. "Just—watch him," she says, pinching the bridge of her nose tiredly. She pulls an unopened bag of sugar off the shelf of the pantry and makes sure Clark has drifted out of sight before opening the door again and thrusting the bag into her new neighbor's hands. "Don't worry about giving it back. I don't use it very often."

"Oh, no," her neighbor protests. "This is too nice of you, I couldn't—"

"It's just sugar." Lena tries to smile but just then she hears Clark shriek—hopefully with laughter, and not because Jess brought the broom back. "Listen, I'm sorry but I really need to go."

"Golly, _I'm_ sorry," the woman says. "I've just been taking up all of your time! Well, thank you for this." She cradles the bag of sugar in one hand and beams, holding out the other and saying, "I'm Kara, by the way."

"I'm Lena," Lena says, all at once surprised by Kara's firm grip. For a woman so small, she's stronger than Lena expects. "Um, welcome to the neighborhood."

Kara beams. "I guess I'll see you around?"

Lena nods politely. "Sure. See you."

She closes the door and briefly wonders what happened to the old couple who lived next door, but her thoughts are interrupted by Jess's sudden scream.

"Holy shit, Lena, close your windows!" Jess yanks Clark out of the air as he zooms towards the open window leading to the backyard, startling him so much that he starts to cry.

Lena nearly sags with relief against the door. "Oh my God," she says. "We need to baby proof this place."

"We need to figure out what the hell is going on," Jess says, passing Clark over to Lena so she can throw herself face first into the couch. "Why, exactly, can he fly?"

Lena wipes Clark's tears away with her thumb, fingers smoothing gently over the back of his neck as he sinks against her shoulder. "I don't know," she says. "What should we do?"

"I don't know!" Jess lifts her head up only to declare, "Babies aren't supposed to fall from the sky. Babies aren't supposed to fly. He's obviously an alien."

"Maybe," Lena says, brushing Clark's soft black hair off his forehead. Here, so small and vulnerable against her chest, he feels very human. But she's never met an alien before; she probably wouldn't know an alien just by looking.

.

.

.

Kara the new neighbor likes to walk around shirtless.

Lena tries not to stare. Really. She just doesn't know how to break it to her neighbor that their bedrooms have windows that face each other and Kara's is never, ever covered. When Lena sits at her desk and works, she often can look up and stare right into Kara's room. She tends to draw her blinds just to give Kara some privacy, but sometimes it gets so hot she can't bear it and has to leave her window open. Like today.

And it looks like Kara's working out, just in a sports bra and shorts, doing so many pushups on the floor Lena wonders how she can manage. She tries not to invade her neighbor's privacy and focus on her novel; she _needs_ another thirty pages soon.

But it's easy to get distracted. And not only because of the attractive neighbor, either; Clark is kicking around her room in the little walker Jess had scrounged up somewhere, shrieking every time he bumps into the bed frame. He's still a little small for it—still a little young—so Lena pads the front of the walker with a blanket so he doesn't smash his face against the front. He doesn't really walk so much as he kicks himself forward, but it's better than him floating.

Lena finds herself watching Clark move. He's easily excited, inching closer and closer to Lena's desk as if seeking her out, smiling so deeply that she sees the one little dimple by his right cheek.

She doesn't know what to make of him yet. Babies aren't typically her thing—they're too vulnerable, too needy, too messy. But there's something about Clark that makes him stand out even though he's all three; he's got a way about him that makes Lena smile. But she's still not cut out for motherhood; she briefly toys with the idea of calling a social worker to intervene.

Clark's walker bumps against Lena's chair and he peers up at her, blue eyes so wide and smile so big, that she doesn't think about it a second longer. Clark's the one who landed on her doorstep (or literally on _her_ ), and she feels guilty about it but she can't let this little boy fall into the wrong hands.

"Come on, Clark," Lena says, powering off her laptop as she bends down to pick him up. "Let's go out."

She makes the mistake of looking right across from her desk. Kara the neighbor makes awkward eye contact and promptly turns a shade or red so dark Lena can see it from all the way over here. Lena is ashamed to say all she does is stand and weakly wave at her, as if to say _surprise? I can see you and the clothes you're not wearing_?

(Kara promptly vanishes from sight.)

Lena brushes off the encounter and takes Clark outside. She doesn't know what babies like to do, but Clark seems excited enough; he coos in delight when Lena sits down with him by the small garden she's been growing. The backyard of the house is small, just concrete and no grass, a table and two chairs that Lena doesn't sit in resting by the door. Her garden is just a strip of dirt enclosed by a brick ledge where she grows a few flowers, a few herbs, but Clark loves the flowers.

He's particularly fond of the roses, and Lena doesn't realize the severity of the situation until Clark lunges forward and ends up pawing at a thorn-covered rose.

Lena gasps louder than intended, and that startles Clark more than the thorns do. In fact, when Lena scrambles to get up and uncurl his fist, she finds that the thorns have not even pierced his skin, crumbled uselessly against his palm.

"What else are you hiding, huh?" Lena murmurs against his forehead, trying to relax enough that her heartbeat stops racing out of horror. He's _okay_ , but she shouldn't be okay, and this is only worrying her more.

The sound of shuffling feet draws her attention, and she turns to find Kara standing by the fence, the one that's low enough so she can see into Kara's backyard.

"Hi," Kara says, and this time _she_ waves, albeit just as awkwardly as Lena did the first time. She's thankfully wearing a shirt (or not-so-thankfully, in Lena's honest opinion), hair damp and frizzing as if she's just washed it. "It's a hot day, isn't it?"

"Yes, very," Lena says, but there's no hope for reigning in her panicked heartbeat now. How long has Kara been there? Surely she couldn't have seen—?

"Is this your son?" Kara smiles winningly at Clark. "He's really cute."

Lena pauses, remembering her story a bit too late. "He's my brother's," she says. "I'm just taking care of him for a while." When Kara nods, accepting the information in silence, Lena surges on to say, "Listen, I'm sorry about earlier, I should've kept my blinds closed or—"

"Oh, no, that's okay!" Kara rubs at the back of her neck, chuckling uncomfortably. "I didn't mean to—sort of flash you. Or your nephew."

"Clark understands," Lena says, giving the baby's waist a quick squeeze. "Plus he still wears diapers. He's just as likely to flash you back one of these days.

"Clark, huh?" Kara leans against the fence, arms crossed casually over the top. "That's a funny name. It sounds too grown-up for such a little guy. But you'll grow into it, isn't that right—Clark." She takes a beat too long to say his name, panic flitting briefly over her face.

The ensuing silence isn't tense, exactly, but it isn't comfortable either. "So," Lena says, just to break it, "how do you like the neighborhood?"

Kara brightens. "I love it," she says happily. "It's so beautiful out here."

It's really not, but Lena plays along, smiling as Kara lights up about the beauty of suburb life.

"Do you by any chance know what happened to the couple that used to live here?" Lena asks when the rambling dies off, curiosity getting the best of her. "I didn't even know they were looking to move."

"Sorry, no," Kara says. "But I did move in pretty quickly. I think my realtor knew them."

"Well," Lena says, "I guess that's that." She has a nagging suspicion that's not all there is to the story, but she steps back and says, "We'd better go back inside. It's too hot out here for Clark."

Kara blinks. "Right," she says. "Babies...overheat. Sometimes."

"...sometimes they do, yeah."

Kara's cheek flush red. "Um," she says. "So by any chance—would you want to hang out sometime? It's just," she hurries to justify, "I'd love to have a friend here. I'm sort of...new to town."

Lena tilts her head and surveys Kara for a moment. She doesn't know where this is coming from; someone as peppy and friendly as Kara surely doesn't need any help making friends. But, she decides, why not—there's no harm in making a new friend herself. (Jess might even be proud.)

"Sure," Lena agrees, and she gestures to her house. "You know where I live."

Kara ducks her head with a shy smile, and this—this could be interesting.


	2. two

**long time no see with this fic, wow. i did mean it when i said i didn't want to drag this out too much, so all decent pacing & timelines that make sense are thrown out the window! i had no real plan for this fic beyond the beginning & the end, so this is as new to me as it is to you guys lmao.**

 **chapter summary: kara doesn't know how to be a human, jess is trying to play matchmaker, and lena's just realized how in over her head she is. plus, clark's too cute.**

* * *

"Is there a reason your neighbor is washing her car like that?"

"Hello, Jess," Lena says at the sound of the front door opening, not pausing to look up from her laptop. "How was your walk?"

"I looked even dumber than I thought was possible," Jess says, shutting the front door behind her and tossing Lena's spare key somewhere in the abyss of the couch cushions.

"What? It didn't look that bad in the pictures." Lena finally looks up; she's been steadily working for the past two hours and the next chapter is _finally_ coming together, so she supposes taking a break wouldn't hurt.

Jess is frowning, and alright, she _does_ look a little funny with Clark strapped to her chest like that. "I look like a suburban mom," she says. "All I need is the funny haircut."

"Clark appreciates your sacrifice very much," Lena assures her, and she helps Jess unstrap Clark when all Jess does is scowl. "Now what's this about my neighbor?"

"The blonde," Jess says, balancing Clark on her hip as she walks into the kitchen. "She's a little weird."

"You can say that again," Lena says, and while she's supposed to be writing (that's the deal, after all—she writes, Jess babysits), she can't help but peek out the front door window and towards Kara's driveway.

Kara is indeed washing her car. If you can call it that, that is. She's somehow pushed the car onto the grass and has started up the sprinklers around it, as if the light spray is going to be strong enough to wash off the grime. Soap is dripping onto the grass and all over Kara's jeans as she happily scrubs away, not focusing much on the parts that are actually dirty, just going through the motions with every part in reach.

"I'll make sandwiches," Jess announces, poking her head out of the kitchen, and when she notices what Lena's doing she frowns again. "Hey. That's not your novel."

"I know," Lena says, not actually moving to return to the couch. "Did she say anything?"

"Your neighbor? She said hi," Jess says. "Mostly to the baby. Any chance she's the long-lost mother we've been waiting for?"

Lena rolls her eyes. "No," she says. "But she seems to like Clark. Maybe we should...invite her over. For lunch."

"She'll only distract you from your book," Jess tuts in mock disapproval, but there's a hint of a smile on her lips like she's struggling to hide her amusement.

Lena's cheeks flare pink. "She's new to the neighborhood, okay? And you're the one always saying I need more friends, so don't give me that look."

"What look?" Jess says innocently, already retreating back into the kitchen. "You should go catch her before she goes back inside. I wouldn't want her to miss out on lunch."

Lena doesn't dignify that obvious bait with a response. Jess has always managed to get Lena to admit things in her own mischievous way, and Lena is _not_ about to spill that she thinks her new neighbor is pretty cute.

That's not to say Kara still isn't weird though. Because she _is_ , and when Lena goes outside to ask Kara over, she finds proof: Kara is pushing her car out of the grass and back into the driveway, whispering frantically to herself. Almost as if she's arguing.

"Kara?" Lena calls out carefully, not entirely sure what she's interrupting.

Kara doesn't seem at all surprised to see Lena approach her, beaming sunnily over her shoulder. "Hey, Lena!" she says. "Um, my car was dirty."

"I see," Lena says, watching as soapy water drips down the sidewalk and into the gutter. "I admire your technique."

"It was a bet," Kara laughs awkwardly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear and leaving a soap trail in its wake. "Anyway, what's up?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to come over for lunch, if you're not too busy," Lena says. "Unless you have some other bets to do?"

"Nope, no more bets," Kara says, patting the hood of her car sheepishly. "And lunch! Lunch would be great. Just give me twenty minutes and I'll freshen up."

"You know where I live," Lena says, and Kara gives her a thumbs-up, nearly tripping over her own feet to go back into her house.

Jess is watching from the window when Lena walks back up her driveway, Clark smacking the glass excitedly, and before Lena can even roll her eyes—or gesture in that universal not-now-Jess way—the window cracks, squiggly fractures crawling up the glass, and Jess jumps backwards.

Clark sticks his fingers in his mouth and grins, unaware that Lena's heart has nearly stopped. She whirls around to check if anyone is outside to see, but only the neighbor three doors down seems to be out, and Lena rushes inside before she's caught staring.

Jess is marginally freaking out. Okay, mostly freaking out. "Did you see that?" she cries as soon as Lena steps inside. "He broke the window!"

"It's not really broken—"

Before Lena can continue, Jess is shoving Clark into her arms. "I need a drink," she says, disappearing into the kitchen. Faintly, Lena can hear her mumbling about windows and hospitals and house insurance.

Lena sets Clark into his walker when he starts to fuss and barely has a chance to stuff the blanket against his chest before he speeds off, kicking his way across the floor with a shriek of excitement. She leans against the doorway of the kitchen to keep an eye on him, but mostly so she can peek in on how Jess is doing.

"I hate being the voice of reason in this house," Jess is rambling, head stuck in the fridge as she gathers the ingredients to make sandwiches. "I'm being smothered."

"You do know you don't actually live here, right?"

"Well _someone_ has to make sure you're alive," Jess huffs, dropping everything bundled into her arms onto the table. "You can barely take care of yourself, much less a baby."

"You're right," Lena sighs, and she watches as Clark bumps into the couch, pushing against it for a few seconds before whining in disappointment and kicking backwards. "I don't know why I thought I could do this."

"Okay, quit being self-deprecating. I'm the only one allowed to criticize you."

"That doesn't even make sense."

Jess thrusts a box at Lena's chest. "Here," she says. "Leave my kitchen, you'll get in the way."

"It's MY kitchen," Lena says, but she takes the box of banana-flavored rice rusks and does as Jess says. She hands one to Clark, and he stops moving around so much so he can mouth on it, the rusk slowly dissolving in his mouth and becoming a slobbery mess in his hand.

She sits back down with her laptop and tries to focus, again, on her novel. But instead of bringing up her Word document, she finds herself bringing up her web browser instead. Clark's walker bumps against her foot just as she's typing in _adoption process_ , rice rusk gone and face messier than it was a minute ago.

"Oh, Clark," Lena says, hunting through her bag for a napkin. "You're a mess."

He looks up at her with wide blue eyes as she wipes off his chin, and when she uses her other hand to smooth the hair out of his face he hangs onto her wrists, making small, desperate noises before she gives in and picks him up.

"You're a terrible influence," Lena murmurs against his hair, sitting down with him on her lap and pushing her laptop aside. He's always clingy when he's sleepy, and it's no different now; he's content snuggled up with Lena's arms around him.

She runs her fingers through his hair and worries. She worries for Clark, for Jess, for the parents Clark must have that are likely afraid to come forward about his disappearance.

A knock on the door is what makes Clark ultimately jerk awake before he can fully fall asleep. Lena is drawn out of her thoughts for a second, too, and she remembers that Kara's coming over.

"I've got it," Jess calls, coming out of the kitchen before Lena has even fully sat up. She throws open the door before Lena can object—or even _prepare_ —and just like that, Kara is invited in.

Lena subconsciously touches her hair, hoping that it looks okay. (And then she realizes how stupid that thought is, and promptly banishes it.)

"Hi," Kara says, but she's really looking over at Lena when she says it, the careful smile on her face as soft as it is tentative. She's much more put-together this time around, dressed in soapless clothes and holding a bouquet of lilies. "Sorry I'm late."

"Kara, hey," Lena says, quickly standing up. "Come in! This is Jess, by the way, she's a good friend of mine. Jess, you remember my neighbor Kara."

Jess nods in Kara's direction, prepared to leave it at that, but Kara thrusts the flowers into Jess's hands and nearly makes her stumble backward at the sheer force.

"It's very nice to meet you, Jess," she says.

"Likewise," Jess says slowly, and she casts a wary glance at the flowers in her hands. "Wow...you shouldn't have."

Lena coughs, not-so-discreetly: it's a warning to be nice. Jess gives her a pointed look, as if to say _see? weird_ , and Lena just clears her throat and says,

"We should eat. I'm sure Clark's starving."

"I'll get his bottle," Jess says, jumping on the change of subject. "And, uh, put these in some water."

"Kara, you're welcome to take a seat on the couch," Lena says. "We'll be right out."

(Then she pulls Jess, hurriedly, into the kitchen.)

"Who brings flowers to lunch?" Jess mutters in confusion. "You don't even own a vase, I don't know why—" She stops, suddenly, and the confusion gives way to childish glee. "She thinks you invited her over to date!"

"Can you keep your voice down?! No, she didn't!" Lena says, cheeks flushing pink at the thought. "She was probably trying to be nice."

Jess, of course, isn't listening. "I never thought I'd be third wheeling on your date," she sighs as she gets out the baby formula. "Scratch that, I never thought you'd _have_ a date."

"It's not a date."

Jess stops pouring water into the bottle to patronizingly pat Lena's cheek. "Okay," she says, in that tone of voice that says she doesn't believe Lena one bit. "Do you want to take the sandwiches out? I've got the bottle."

Lena decides to take the blatant change of subject, even if she's still suspicious of Jess's plans. Balancing the tray of sandwiches in one hand and still holding Clark with the other, she makes her way out of the kitchen to where Kara's waiting.

Kara jumps up to help. "Oh, let me," she says, taking the tray.

"Thanks," Lena says, settling back onto the couch with Clark. He's back to being restless, squirming to protest sitting down; that's how Lena knows he's hungry.

She's a little surprised how easily she's fallen into recognizing what makes him tick. Sometimes she knows, sometimes she doesn't, but for someone who has never been too fond of kids—well. It's a win in her book.

Jess comes back with the bottle not long afterwards, and that's all it takes for Clark to sink back peacefully into Lena's arms, eyes slowly drifting shut as he sucks away. Lena gazes at him for a minute, perhaps a beat too long, because when she finally looks back up she realizes that Jess is gathering her things to leave.

"You two have fun," Jess calls. "I have to get to work, so I'll cut my visit short."

Jess does not have work, and Lena knows exactly what she's doing; she narrows her eyes at her suspiciously, but Jess doesn't even look at her, instead redirecting her attention to Kara.

Kara doesn't notice Lena's not-quite-a-glare, at least. "Can I help you take anything to your car?" she asks Jess.

"No, thanks," Jess says, and she pats Lena's shoulder as she ducks past. "Nice meeting you, Kara. Lena, don't forget about your novel!"

(In her haste to leave, Jess forgets her purse, but Lena decides not to mention it.)

The house feels emptier with her gone, and Lena feels awkward about it. She's torn between looking at Kara or Clark, wondering what exactly she's supposed to do now that Kara's here. Kara doesn't seem to notice that either, too preoccupied with casting curious, though not intrusive, glances around the room. When she catches Lena staring, she smiles, a soft, endearing smile that makes Lena's mouth go dry.

"You have a lovely house," Kara says. "It makes sense, if you're an artist."

"Writing isn't really art," Lena tries, but Kara shakes her head.

"Words are art," she says, a distant glint in her eye that makes her smile dim. "One of the best kinds, in my opinion." As quickly as the pensiveness seems to come, it vanishes, and Kara's voice sounds cheerful as she asks, "So what kind of novel is it?"

"It's a love story," Lena says, embarrassed to say her voice wavers a bit. "It's...well. It's not coming along, yet."

"That sounds nice," Kara says, and her eyes fall to Clark. Lena can't be imagining the way she seems to soften, a trace of the pensiveness coming back. "What's it about?"

"When I figure it out, I'll let you know," Lena mutters, mostly to herself, but it's enough to make Kara laugh quietly. "What do you do?"

The question surprises Kara, her eyes widening before her expression becomes tentatively guarded. "I'm figuring that out too," she says, and maybe she means it to be a joke, but it comes out so serious Lena wonders what it is that she's said wrong.

.

.

.

Lena starts keeping a list of Clark's powers as they manifest.

Floating: check.

Abnormal strength: check.

Strong—possibly impenetrable—skin: check. ( _No, Jess, we are not testing that one further_.)

Glow-y eyes: check.

There's no research done on aliens—nothing that Lena can run a Google search on, anyway—and she doesn't know what of all this means. She has never been into the biological sciences; she's more of a chemistry girl herself, and doesn't quite understand the genetic makeup of anyone who isn't human.

She hates to admit it, but she does let her fingertips hover over the contact in her phone that she can't bring herself to delete yet. But she hasn't called Lex in years, and she is most certainly not about to start now.

Lena calls Winn, instead.

Admittedly, she hasn't spoken to Winn in a while either. He left CatCo a year ago and Lena hasn't seen him once, has only talked to him through text. He immediately agrees to meet her for coffee, though, because that's just how kind Winn is.

Lena finds him already sitting at the café when she walks in, and he looks the same as he did a year ago; wearing plaid under his cardigan, hair short, smile so wide it overtake his entire face.

"Lena! Hey!" he says when he spots her, but he stops short of hugging her when he notices Clark. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. I've missed a _lot_ , haven't I?"

"Hi, Winn," Lena says, gingerly taking a seat so Clark can sit up on her lap. "This is Clark. He's very fond of grabbing, so please move your coffee cup if you'd like to keep it."

Winn blinks before he does as suggested, cradling his cup to his chest. "Wow," he says. "You...you birthed a tiny human."

"I did not give birth to anyone," Lena corrects him. "I don't know who Clark's parents are, actually."

"Uh," Winn's eyes widen, darting frantically from side to side, "is this, like, an _illegal_ story?"

Lena ignores the question. "Can you keep a secret, Winn?" she asks. "Because I don't know who else I can trust with this."

"And by _this_ , you mean..."

"Clark's an alien," Lena says, and Winn's jaw drops.

"No way," he says, looking at Clark with renewed interest. He doesn't seem as horrified as Lena anticipated. In fact, he looks like he's in _awe_ of the fact. "That's so cool."

Lena supposes it could've gone worse, so she'll take _cool_. "I need your help," she clarifies, before Winn can let his imagination run too wild. "I don't know what should be my first step in finding his parents."

"Well, have you tried social services?"

"An alien baby would certainly turn heads, don't you think?" Lena says. "I don't want him to fall into the wrong hands."

"You Luthors," Winn says, shaking his head. "Always distrusting the government." At Lena's unimpressed look, he shrinks back into his chair. "Too soon? Sorry."

"Can you help or not?" Lena pushes. "You're the smartest person I know. Surely there's something you can do—some sort of resources you can access."

"I want to, honest!" Winn says. "But I'm barely the glorified IT guy. I can't get my hands on any of Lord's tech." He looks glum at the thought, and Lena decides not to mention how Winn had left CatCo to _avoid_ being a glorified IT guy.

"I don't want to run tests on Clark," Lena says. "So whatever scheme you're building in your mind, I don't want to hear about it."

"What if it's very non-invasive testing?"

"No."

"Very basic DNA testing?"

"...maybe," Lena says. "But I can do that on my own if I have to. I just don't have the database to run any results through."

"I've heard from the guys upstairs that Lord Technologies is getting a little shady," Winn offers. "You know, with the spike in alien population and all, they've been trying to get in on the sketchy government-stuff. Testing, collecting data, the whole nine yards."

Lena's stomach goes cold. "On actual aliens?"

"No, no! Just on cells, some skin, all donated," Winn says. "Lord's a douche, sure, but even he's not that stupid."

Every big business seems to be straddling the line of ethical or not, and Lena's so sick of it that Winn's assurance doesn't even make her relax. This is exactly what she's been trying to avoid, and for a split second she wishes she could go back to when her biggest issue was whether or not she could write the next chapter of her book.

But hard as she might try to deny it, Lena's always had a bit of a bleeding heart. Much to her mother's dismay, as well, but Lena doesn't linger on the thought for too long.

"What can I do to help?" she asks. "Not just about Clark. With everything."

"I'm not sure if there's anything you can do," Winn says, rubbing his jaw apologetically. "No offense, but if I get caught and your name gets plastered along with mine, your mother will kill me. And maybe you."

"Forget about my mother," Lena says. "If there's something shady going on, we can't just do nothing."

"Yeah," Winn says, glumly. "Why is every business in National City garbage?"

"Don't ask me, my mother's running one of the worst ones out there."

"Touché."

Clark coos at that very moment, grasping Lena's hands and trying to stick them into his mouth as if to remind her that he's there too. She gently untangles her fingers from his, a soft fondness making her heart ache. She hates to admit it, but she's a little in love with him. Just a little bit.

Winn dons a concerned expression the moment Lena looks back at him, a reluctance bordering on worry reflected in his eyes. "Lena," he says, "you know what you're doing, right?"

Lena swallows back the reflexive _no_ that stays stubbornly at the back of her throat. "Of course," she says, faintly. "Well, I'm...figuring it out."

Winn gives her a sympathetic half-smile. "I'll see what I can do," he promises. "And hey, if you ever need a babysitter, I'm your guy! I'm great with kids. Usually older kids, but he's a little cutie, he can't get into that much trouble." He leans over to beam at Clark, nudging his chin with his finger. "Am I right, buddy?"

Clark drools, giggling, and Winn yelps at the sheer amount of spit on his hand.

"Clark," Lena tries to admonish, but she's unable to laugh at the scene so her words come out more amused than they're supposed to. But it feels _good_ , genuinely good; she hasn't laughed this freely in a long time.

Winn is unable to keep from cracking a smile himself. "Alright, alright," he says as he wipes off his finger. "Point taken. He's definitely your kid, this little troublemaker."

And just like that, Lena's smile falls. Reality hits her a lot sharper all at once, because of _course_ she knows Clark isn't hers; she feels guilty for even once entertaining the thought of adopting him. He's not a puppy left on her doorstep to keep. He's a _baby_ , and he's going to grow up and go to school and live a life that Lena can't give him. It's for the best that she stick to staying unattached, to not grow too fond of this boy.

So she looks back to Winn, a sinking determination taking over, and says: "I can't keep him. I just—I need to find the people that can."

"I didn't mean—I mean, he's obviously not _your_ kid, just that he's...he's a little like you! I-I mean...how long did you say you've had him, again?"

"It's fine, Winn," Lena says. "He's only been with me for a few weeks. I'll—I'll give you the full story soon, okay? And I'll keep in touch."

"You got it," Winn says, and before Lena can leave, he stops her with a touch to her hand. "Hey. No matter what, you can count on me, alright? I've got your back. And Clark's."

Lena squeezes his hand back in response. "Thanks, Winn," she says, and she hopes it doesn't sound as sad as she'd hoped to avoid.

.

.

.

Kara has become somewhat of a fixture in Lena's life.

She doesn't mean for it to happen, really, but every time she leaves the house Kara is usually outside. Kara is always outside, now that she thinks about it, planting flowers or watering plants any chance she gets. She seems to glow in the sunlight, distracting anyone who walks past with her radiant smile and sun-kissed skin.

(Also, she still doesn't wear a shirt that often.)

She and Lena say hi to each other most mornings, or text each other random questions or little snippets of their lives. They have a casual friendship, really; they don't really spend much time with each other unless Lena has time to spare, and usually she doesn't. She's busy trying to juggle taking care of Clark, writing her novel, and keeping her mother at bay best she can; there's no time for friends outside of that.

Unfortunately, she's only doing two for three, because Lillian Luthor shows up at her doorstep soon enough.

The impatient knock tricks her into believing it's Jess, and Lena runs a hand through her messy hair and curses her out under her breath as she drags herself out of bed. First she picks up an unfairly awake Clark, who looks two seconds away from tears, and pats his back soothingly as she makes her way to the front door.

Lena throws a small blanket over her shoulder as she yanks it open, in case the chill makes Clark fussier. She is fully prepared to glower at Jess, but her frown gives way to a quick, panicked press of her lips together the second she realizes it's not Jess after all.

"Mother," she says, not-so-subtly hugging Clark tighter to her chest. "This couldn't wait until later?"

"I figured you'd need the wake up call," Lillian says, and her eyes linger on the obvious baby-shaped lump in Lena's arms. She doesn't comment right away, opting instead to walk right in without waiting for an invitation.

Lena resignedly shuts the door behind her. "Let me get some coffee brewing," she says. She almost takes Clark back to his crib, but he's so alert she knows he'll just cry if she leaves him behind. "What brings you here?"

"Do I need a reason to visit my daughter?"

"No," Lena says, "though I assume you'd need much more than a reason." She pours water into the kettle with one hand, Clark calmly resting his head against her shoulder. "Is there something you want?"

Lillian follows her into the kitchen, and it's then that she fully scrutinizes Clark. "Don't tell me you've already given up on that whole writing nonsense," she says. "Have you resorted to running a daycare from your home?"

"I haven't given up on writing," Lena says. "I assume you knew, since you went to my publisher anyway." She's so defensive she doesn't realize it at first, dropping the kettle onto the stove so hard some of its water sloshes over.

"For your own benefit," Lillian replies. She is unfazed by Lena's tone, casually making her way around Lena's kitchen as if she's never seen it before; she's likely studying the small things that are obviously out of place, like Clark's formula and the various baby foods set out on the counter.

"Right," Lena mutters, "I'm sure that's exactly why you did that." She hefts Clark up higher on her hip and sighs, "Can we sit down? You can criticize me on the couch."

"I'm not criticizing you."

"Well, you can not-criticize me on the couch," Lena says. "Clark's tired."

"Clark," Lillian echoes as they make their way into the living room. "Who is he, exactly?"

Lena almost goes with the usual lie that he's actually Lex's, but manages to bite her tongue before she does. "He's...the son of a friend," she lies. "I'm watching him for a few days."

Lillian casts a disbelieving glance at the toys strewn around the living room floor. "How long?" she asks.

"I'm not sure yet," Lena says, which is mostly true because so far Winn hasn't found any leads. "I'm just trying to help out in any way I can."

"How generous," Lillian says, in a way that makes generous sound like it's supposed to be something else, like stupid. "Tell your friend to find someone else."

Lena stiffens unconsciously, drawing Clark more firmly against her chest. "What?" she says, blinking, waiting to find out that she's heard her mother wrong.

But, "Your friend has to find someone else," says Lillian plainly. "Lex is coming home."

Lena stops listening after that. She's sure Lillian goes on about the family name and keeping it pure and whatnot—as her mother always does—but all she can think about is Clark, and what this means.

"Why is he coming back?" Lena asks, trying hard to stay neutral. "I'm not so sure he's going to be welcomed with open arms at Luthor Corp after the stunt he pulled."

"I'm working on the board," Lillian says. "All you need to worry about is being there for him when it's necessary."

"You mean when there's press involved."

"Not necessarily just then," Lillian says, and she levels Lena with a cold look. "That is entirely up to you."

Lena's jaw tightens, but before she can assuredly tell her mother that she has no plan to associate with her openly anti-alien brother, there is another knock at the door. This time it probably _is_ Jess, and the thought makes Lena slightly relax.

(But just her luck—it's Kara.)

"Hi, Lena," Kara says brightly. "Sorry to bother you so early, but I was wondering if you and Clark wanted to go for a walk? It's a beautiful morning."

Kara's an odd person; this isn't news. All the same, Lena has a general _what the fuck is this Disney princess shit_ moment before she actually realizes that that sounds much nicer than entertaining her mother any longer.

"Sure," Lena agrees, extremely aware of her messy hair as Clark tugs on the end of it, thankfully not hard enough to hurt; his strength seems to come in small bursts, at random moments. "Can you just give us a minute?"

"Yeah! I'll wait by my house," Kara says, though her chipper smile slowly becomes much more faux polite as Lillian comes up behind Lena. "Oh no, was this a bad time?"

"My mother was just leaving, actually," Lena says, though she says it without breaking her eyes away from Lillian's.

Lillian responds with a sharp smile. "To be continued, I suppose," she says. "You and your... _friend_ have fun, now."

It's something like a threat, and Lena feels her body go cold. Nonetheless, she walks her mother out and even manages to fake a smile Kara's way before she gets a chance to go back inside, and then she presses her back against the front door and exhales, shakily, against the top of Clark's head.

"This is bad," she tells Clark. "Very bad."

Clark gurgles something that sounds like _ahh_. He's not particularly reassuring.

.

.

.

"We need a signal, don't you think? In case Clark does something weird."

"What do you mean in case he does something weird?" Lena stops pouring chips into bowls to briefly poke her head out of the kitchen, but he's still happily occupied in his walker.

"Something weird," Jess stresses, shuffling out of the closet with the broom in hand. "You know. Something that has to do with his p-o-w-e-r-s?"

"You can just say powers. I doubt Clark will care," Lena says, going back to the kitchen to finish preparing the snacks.

"He's in his learning stage, okay? He can't pick that word up. It'll be suspicious," Jess says. "I don't even see why we have to have strangers over here anyway. It would be so much easier to just watch the game by ourselves and not worry about Clark breaking someone's face."

"It's just Kara," Lena says, reemerging with the chips to set onto the coffee table. "And a few other friends. I don't know, I let Winn invite some of his friends."

"Random strangers? To our house?"

"Again...you don't live here."

Jess shakes her head. "You would totally be the white girl who dies in thriller movies," she says. "I'm only your friend out of pity."

"Thank you, I appreciate the sentiment," Lena deadpans, brushing her hands off on her jeans once everything's set up. "So what, exactly, do you want this signal for?"

"Obviously one of us is going to need to keep an eye on Clark at all times," Jess says, starting to sweep up the floor. "And what if I need you to make a distraction while I take him into your room? We need a code word."

"Okay, fine," Lena says. "Pineapples."

"That is the lamest code word in existence."

"Too late, it's the code word."

Jess shakes her head again as she starts sweeping the crumbs that Clark's left in his wake. "I hope your crush on your weird neighbor is worth this," she says. "I can't believe we're giving up Thai food for _pizza_."

"I don't have a crush on anyone," Lena huffs. "And stop being so dramatic, you can get Thai food tomorrow."

Jess's complaint of _it won't be the same_ gets partially drowned out by the doorbell, and then they don't have much time to talk; they're too busy inviting Winn and his boyfriend, James, in. They've brought a few of their friends, and they make themselves at home while Jess hurriedly finishes up cleaning and Lena pays for the pizza guy who shows up a second later.

Kara shows up half an hour later, just as the game's starting.

It's a little late to get her introduced to everyone, because they're all completely engrossed in the TV. American football is apparently everyone's weakness, but Kara doesn't seem to mind that she's the odd one out.

"I don't understand it," she whispers to Lena, her breath warm by Lena's ear. "But it looks like it's a big deal."

"Not really," Lena whispers back. "But Jess lives for it."

(Lena leaves out the part where she arranged this whole thing as an excuse to invite Kara over again; Jess is right about a lot of things, damn her.)

The two of them aren't sitting, hovering instead at the back of the couch while everyone else watches. Clark is still in his walker, kicking his way from person to person and letting them fuss over how cute he is. Mostly he gravitates to Jess, who brings out baby food from the kitchen and feeds him a spoonful every time he goes over.

"So Clark," Kara says suddenly. "You said he's your nephew, right?"

"Yes, he's...my brother's son."

"I don't think I've met your brother," Kara says.

Lena scoffs, before she can stop herself. "That's a good thing, trust me," she says, bitterly, before she catches herself. "Sorry. I just don't...see eye-to-eye with him."

"I understand," Kara says. "I have a sister. We don't always agree on everything, and she's a pain in the ass, but—she's my sister."

 _If only it were that simple with Lex_ , Lena thinks. Aloud, all she says is, "Family is complicated."

"Understatement of the century," Kara quips, and she's grinning when Lena faces her.

Lena doesn't know if she's ever been this close to Kara before, close enough to see the small scar by her eyebrow, close enough to see every line of her mouth, close enough to easily imagine what it would be like to lean in.

She is jarred back to reality when Clark whines loudly, and she jerks her head in his direction in time to see him refuse the next spoonful of carrot mush Jess offers him.

"I should get him, he's probably sleepy," Lena says, and Kara just touches her arm briefly as if in understanding.

He actually needs a diaper change, but it's a welcome distraction all the same. Once she's done, Lena doesn't take them out of her room yet; she lets Clark play on the bed for a while, hovering behind him as he sits up and tries to reach for a few toys she sets just out of his reach. Supposedly, that's meant to help him start crawling sooner.

(Not that she's done a lot of research about this. She just wants to help him as long as he needs, that's all.)

"Lena?"

...and Kara's back, tilting her head apologetically as she leans against Lena's doorframe.

"Hey, sorry," Lena says. "He's not sleepy after all, we'll be right out."

"Oh, Jess just sent me to say that she's ordering more pizza," Kara says. "And she said to check on you? She said you would be trying to hide."

Lena makes a note to kill Jess later. "She exaggerates," she says. "I'm just not really good at parties."

"This is a party?" Kara frowns. "Huh. I thought those were supposed to be bigger."

"Typically they are, I guess," Lena says. When it's clear Kara is still overthinking it, she continues, "Listen, don't worry about what Jess says. You should get back with the others."

"Okay," Kara says. "If you're sure?"

"Positive," Lena says, and she picks Clark up and sets him down in his crib. "I'll actually just hang out here with Clark for a little bit, see if he'll fall asleep."

"Sure you don't want some company?" Kara offers. "I'm not really up to watching the game anyway."

And, well: "Oh. Um, if you want to you can stay, yeah," Lena says, and they end up sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the floor, level with the crib so they can watch Clark tire himself out.

Clark is laid out on his back, a plush toy in one hand and another in his mouth, probably happy about the arrangement. They can see his face through the bars, and his blue eyes are so full with glee that Lena's heart aches.

"He's so cute," Kara says, breaking their comfortable silence.

"Yeah," Lena says, quietly. "He is."

More silence. Then,

"You look tired," Kara observes. "It must be hard taking care of a baby so young."

Lena shrugs. "I have help," she says. "Well. It's mostly Jess."

"Right." Kara looks down, briefly toying with the end of her shirt as if trying to muster up the courage to say something else.

Lena is about to beat her to it, but—Clark's eyes start to glow. They do that a lot, and stay lit for no longer than a few minutes, but it's enough to make Lena's heart nearly stop altogether. Kara isn't looking his way; when she looks back up she turns to Lena, mouth opening to speak, and Lena does the only thing she can think of.

She grabs Kara's jaw, and briefly registers the surprise in Kara's eyes before she kisses her hard.

* * *

.

.

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 **thanks for reading this so far, you're all the best! i'm still over at tumblr at pippytmi, if you want to see some of the fics i don't post here; i write for random little prompts i get every now and then.**


	3. three

**this chapter is a result of poor time management & really, really vague plot lines i have for this fic so. sorry it's been a while lmao**

 **it's also a bit shorter this time around ? i'm trying /not/ to rush this too much bear with me, this still won't be a super long fic!**

* * *

For a few seconds—a few agonizingly long, lung-burning seconds—Kara doesn't move.

Lena's hand drops, and she leans back enough so her lips aren't touching Kara's any longer, but still close enough that any shift on either of their parts would make their lips touch once more. She feels embarrassment burn hotly up the back of her neck, and she is so absolutely _mortified_ that she almost backs away altogether.

But then Kara moves, tentatively. Her lips are slightly chapped but they're also soft, so soft, and she kisses like it's a question, like she isn't sure what she's doing. She is gentle in her movements, her hand shyly coming up to Lena's shoulder, fingertips brushing by Lena's throat; the touch is as dizzying as much as it is intoxicating.

Lena hates to admit that she forgets about Clark for a minute. She forgets about _everything_ for a minute, actually, and gets instantly carried away; she's too preoccupied figuring out the softness of Kara's hair, figuring out that when she traces Kara's jaw with her fingertips Kara shivers.

Eventually she has to pull back, to breathe, and she keeps her eyes shut tight, afraid that if she opens them she'll show just how affected she is.

It's silent for a moment, before Kara speaks. "Lena?" she says, and she sounds shy, nervous enough that when Lena finally opens her eyes she realizes there is a faint blush on Kara's cheeks.

"Yeah?" Lena says, and she tries not to make it too hopeful.

After a pregnant pause, Kara blurts out, "I have to go," and in the blink of an eye she's scrambling up off the floor, slamming open the door and clumsily stumbling out without another word.

Lena remains on the floor, alone, in stunned silence. Well, that went _spectacularly._

Clark coos, reminding her that she's not alone; when she shakily gets to her feet and looks at him, he's wide awake, blue eyes wide and curious and thankfully not glowing.

There's a heavy worry gnawing on her entire being but, at the very least, Clark's secret is safe. "Hey, troublemaker," Lena says, reaching in to trace the edge of his jaw with her fingertip. "You have terrible timing, did you know that?"

He smiles, and Lena feels the heaviness grow; she's getting dangerously used to that smile by now, so wide, so carefree, so _innocent_ that it hurts to think about the world against him.

A cautious knock drags her out of her funk. "Hey," Jess says, and when Lena turns she spots her leaning against the doorframe. "So, your weird neighbor pretty much bolted."

"I figured," Lena says, offering a half-smile she suspects looks more like a grimace. "There goes any chance of having friends that aren't you, I guess."

Jess is never the prying type, but today she looks too concerned to stick by it. "Did she," she gestures to Clark, and then drops her voice low to say, "see him go all...pineapples?"

"...what?"

"Your stupid code word, Lena," Jess reminds her impatiently.

"Oh," Lena says. "No, I don't think so. She almost did, but..." She trails off, embarrassed just at the thought of the kiss, and but she knows Jess won't drop it; she ends up rushing it out, cheeks flaming: "Isortofkissedher."

Jess's jaw drops. "You're kidding."

"I wish I was," Lena says glumly. "I messed everything up, didn't I?"

"Hold on, hold on, I feel like I'm missing something here," Jess says. "You _kissed_ her? The neighbor you keep swearing you somehow don't have a crush on?"

"I kissed her for Clark's sake!"

"How selfless of you," Jess says sarcastically. "I'm sure he approves."

"Not just...for anything like that, it was to distract her," Lena argues weakly. "It's not a big deal anyway."

"Right," Jess says. "That's why you look like you've been punched in the gut."

Lena sinks down onto her bed, burying her face in her hands with a groan. "I probably weirded her out," she says.

"As a completely uninvolved third party," Jess assures her, "I totally would've been fine with you kissing me. I would've kissed you back! Wait. Did she kiss back?"

"...yes?"

"Shut up, that's disgusting," Jess says gleefully. "She likes you! I knew it!"

"You're forgetting that she couldn't wait to get away from me," Lena mutters.

"I'm sure there's a reason," Jess says, shutting Lena's door as if the rest of their guests are somehow going to hear the hushed conversation. "I can talk to her if you want."

Lena rolls her eyes, but she smiles, just a little. "You'd try to scare her away."

"Not completely," Jess counters. "Even if she's a little weird—"

"As you tend to remind me every time we talk about her."

"—even if she's a little weird," Jess repeats, raising a finger so Lena won't interrupt, "she's also kind of okay. And she likes Clark too, so, bonus."

Lena scoffs. "Who doesn't?" she says, another problem already making itself known in the back of her brain; she can't possibly pursue Kara when Clark is in the picture.

(At least, not until she knows she can trust her with Clark's secret, and there's no telling how _that_ could go.)

The doorbell rings, echoing throughout the house, and Jess cracks open the door once more. "That's the pizza," she says. "Do me a favor and don't freak out too much, okay? You saved Clark's secret. That's a good thing."

At the cost of Kara's—whatever it is, they had. Friendship. Maybe.

But Lena doesn't say that; she just gives Jess an accepting nod. "You're right," she says. "That's...that's good."

"You want to come back out? The game's not over yet," Jess says, lingering even as the doorbell rings again.

"No, I'll wait until Clark falls asleep. You go ahead," Lena says, and Jess leaves with only a _slightly_ pitying look.

Clark doesn't fuss when Lena lifts him out of the crib, to cradle him close; she's ashamed by it, but she misses the warmth of holding him. He has a way of calming her down no one else does, gazing up at her with soft eyes and sucking on his fist.

 _At least he won't judge her,_ Lena thinks, and she places the gentlest of kisses to the crown of his head.

.

.

.

Kara has been increasingly gone from Lena's life.

Lena hadn't realized just how integral Kara's presence was to her day. Her shades are always drawn now, never open as they used to be when Lena could peer right into her house. She never even tends to her garden anymore, opting to stay inside instead.

But she is _there_ , surely, because at night Lena can see the light of her windows glowing. Since Lena works from home, she's just as much of a shut-in, but even _she_ takes a leave from the house every once in a while.

Lena doesn't ask about it, of course. She still has Kara's number but doesn't text her; she figures the least she can do is give Kara space, if that's what she needs.

She berates herself for being so sentimental about this. She's had pointless crushes before. She's been rejected, she's experienced gut-wrenching heartbreak like the best of them, and yet— _this_ is what is driving her slowly mad.

Clark seems to notice that all of Lena's attention is not entirely on him now. He always makes sure to drag her back, bumping his walker insistently against her desk, fussing until she sets him on her lap while she works, refusing to sleep in the crib until she relents and brings him to her bed.

"You know," she whispers to him one night, as he drifts off to sleep, "I think I might love you." The words are lumped in her throat and he doesn't understand, not really, but a weight has been lifted off of her chest the instant she manages to get them out.

When she closes her eyes, willing tears burning the back of her eyes not to fully surface, she feels him burrow closer to her chest. He is solid, warm, so comforting she feels herself relax slightly.

"I'm going to find your family," she promises him as his eyes slowly slip shut. "No matter how long it takes."

She gets out of bed and leaves him there, putting two pillows at either side of him so he's not in any danger of falling off. He looks so small when he's asleep, not active and kicking, the only sign he's alive the steady rise and fall of his chest. There is a curl of his hair always swooping over his forehead, and Lena sweeps it aside before she finally turns off the lights and goes out to the kitchen.

It's still early enough that she decides to make dinner. She is beginning to wash some asparagus for a quick fish bake when her doorbell rings; she sighs, and wipes her wet hands off on her jeans, as she makes her way to the door.

She allows herself a moment to hope it's Jess, and not her mother, and then she swings the door open.

(On second thought, she'd take her mother.)

"Hi," Kara says. She has both hands stuck in her pockets, body swaying awkwardly, and there is a nervousness to her voice Lena can't ignore.

"Kara," Lena says, stunned. "Hey."

"Can I come in?"

"Of course," Lena says, quickly jerking the door open. "I didn't—I wasn't expecting to see you."

"I've been busy, I'm sorry," Kara says. "I brought you something!" She takes one of her hands out of her pockets and opens her palm, displaying a mini half-pen, half-highlighter. "Isn't it neat? Since you're a writer I thought you'd like it."

It's by far the strangest gift Lena has ever received, and it makes her smile. "Thank you," she says, immediately placing it on the kitchen island once they gravitate towards the kitchen. "What brings you by so late?"

"I wanted to apologize," Kara says, wringing her fingers together. "Because I left your party."

"It's fine, I know you were probably busy," Lena tries, and Kara grasps onto the excuse like a lifeline, vigorously nodding in agreement.

"Yes! I had," a pause, "I had something to take care of. It wasn't because, um, you kissed me." It's a flimsy excuse now that Lena hears it aloud, and she rushes to interject,

"I'm really sorry about that. I...I must have misread the situation."

She purposefully phrases her words so Kara can answer her unasked question of whether or not the kiss was a mistake—it's a way to offer an out, even, and she sees Kara's eyes fill with understanding.

"Right," Kara says, after another pregnant pause. Then, quieter, as she sheepishly rubs the back of her neck: "I didn't mind."

Lena's heartbeat quickens. "Really?"

"But I'm, I'm not in a good place right now, I..." Kara stops, helplessly. "My, uh—relationship status, that's the term—it's complicated."

 _Relationship status_? That is so cliché and _weird_ and, somehow, only works to endear Lena further.

"That's okay," Lena finds herself saying. "I was just worried about you, I—I hadn't heard from you in a while."

"Yes, I had to deal with a lot of...work," Kara says vaguely. "But everything is sorted out now."

"That's good," Lena says, hating just how awkward it feels between them now. "Did you maybe want to stay for dinner? I need to cook it first, but..."

"Oh, no, I couldn't," Kara says quickly. "Another time."

"Sure," Lena agrees slowly, "another time."

Kara doesn't move to leave yet, and instead takes a hesitant step closer to Lena. There is an intensity behind her gaze, something bordering sadness, and Lena blinks back at her in poorly hidden confusion as Kara confesses,

"I'd really like to kiss you again. And I don't know what that means."

Lena bites her lip and tries, unsuccessfully, not to flush a little. "I think it means we're bad at being friends," she says, and watches as Kara's expression clears.

"Then we'll fix that," she declares firmly. "And we can be friends again."

"If that's what you want," Lena says, swallowing the disappointment in her voice before it makes this even more awkward.

"Is that...not what you want?" Kara's brow furrows.

"Truthfully?" Lena says. "I don't know what I want. And you're...you're really confusing."

"I'm sorry."

"That's not a bad thing," Lena says, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear and attempting a small smile. "At least, I don't think so yet."

"Yet?" Kara repeats questioningly.

"Jury's still out," Lena says, unable to quit from flushing this time, too, from her cheeks to the tips of her ears.

The only consolation is that Kara is blushing too. Fainter, but it's there, in the way she ducks her head and shyly pushes her glasses up her nose.

"I'll let you figure it out," Kara says, taking a step back, towards the door. "But we're still friends, right?"

"Of course," Lena promises, and Kara smiles, as brightly as always; Lena notes that there's a hint of relief to it this time around.

.

.

.

Lex has been home for two weeks before Lena finally musters up the courage to go see him.

She leaves Clark in Jess's care and catches a bus to her mother's estate, just on the outskirts of town, a towering mansion surrounded by even taller gates. She walks from the bus stop there, gravel crunching beneath her feet as she makes her way down the winding path.

The iron gates greet her first, large and black and hot to the touch; they always made the place seem like a prison growing up. She has barely run her fingertips across them in remembrance when she hears the heavy groan of the gates beginning to open.

She remains as stiff as possible as she waits, knowing that Lex will be watching her through the security cameras. She stuffs her hands in her pockets and strides forward the instant she can squeeze in through the parting gates, barely managing not to nick her cheek on the japing jaws of iron.

The door is propped open before she arrives, and the newest butler of the week gives her a curt nod as she walks up. "Mr. Luthor is expecting you in his study, ma'am," he says.

"Thank you," Lena says, and she wishes she knew his name.

She knows the way to Lex's study all too well, and when she cracks open the door she sees it's as if he never left, the bookshelves dusted off and the shades drawn tightly.

Lex doesn't look up from his work when Lena closes the door behind her. Lena takes that moment to look at him, at the way he's a little more gaunt, at the way his eyes are a little more sunken.

When he finally looks up, he smiles, a cold gesture that's more halfhearted than anything else. "Lena," he says coolly. "It's good to see you." His voice lacks any warmth that makes his words compelling; Lena tightens her jaw and refuses to be hurt by it.

"You look awful," Lena says, opting out of pleasantries.

Lex laughs, dryly, and says, "You sure know how to make a guy feel welcome." There's no teasing lilt to his tone; he is mocking, but stiff in his deliverance. "Thanks, sis. I'll be sure to tell Mom about how happy you were to see me."

"Tell me you've changed, Lex," Lena says, ignoring the casual mention of their mother. She tries not to get frustrated, but she _is_ , and she can't keep on staring her brother down and pretending she's okay. "Tell me why I should stay."

Lex's expression darkens. "I'm not going to beg for your forgiveness," he says sharply. "If you've come expecting an apology—"

"Do you not know what you did?" Lena cuts him off, hotly, and she can't help it; the frustration leaks through. "The things you said, Lex—they were appalling."

"I had a few too many drinks," Lex says, and he calmly drops his gaze down to his desk again, reorganizing a stack of papers. "Everyone's done something like it."

It's said so nonchalantly that Lena can't keep herself from exploding: "Except everyone else doesn't get shitfaced drunk on live television and publicly declares an anti-alien stance for a company that isn't even yours to claim," she snaps. "You—you made us look _horrible_ , Lex."

"And I apologized," Lex says, and when he looks back up there's not a trace of remorse to be found in his eyes. "So let's move past all that, shall we?"

"Tell me you've grown since then," Lena says, not quite as willing to drop the subject so easily. "Tell me you've realized you're wrong."

The way he presses his lips into a grim line is answer enough. "I won't," he says, pressing forward even as Lena scoffs disbelievingly and turns away. "Lena. You have to understand. I'm thinking about the bigger picture of our future."

"By being an absolute _ass_? Is that it? By being an insufferable, intolerant—"

Lex rises out of his chair. "You've seen the numbers," he says. "I know you have. There's been a spike in alien sightings unlike any other in the past year. Don't you care that superpowered beings are invading our world? That they might not have good intentions?"

Lena thinks about Clark, who is so unaware of the turmoil around him, so blissfully content and so, so young; the thought of anyone finding him as threat makes her sick to her stomach.

"Who are you to decide they don't have good intentions?" Lena demands.

"They're dangerous, Lena," Lex says. "I only said the truth. It was premature, I have to admit, and I didn't mean to blurt it out like that. But Luthor Corp has potential to bring about change, can't you see? All three of us. We can show the world the truth."

"I'm done with Luthor Corp," Lena says firmly. _With you_ , she wants to say, but it wouldn't be completely true.

The truth—the annoying, pitiful truth—is she misses him. She misses her brother who could make her smile with just one look, the Lex who talked so charmingly everyone couldn't resist loving him. All that's left of that brilliant young man is a shell, a heavy-eyed shell with hatred burning too bright and jealousy burning even brighter.

"Mom told me about all of that." Lex doesn't move any closer than he already is, but his gaze bores into her face even from across the room. "Writing love stories. Cute."

Lena grits her teeth together and says, "And what have you been up to? Just dallying away with Mom's money, I'll bet."

"Believe it or not, Lena," Lex says, "I've been actually using my talent for something worthwhile."

The way he sneers at her, so openly cold, is a clear shift from the last time she'd seen him; he had been quiet then, pensive, and as he packed his things to leave town he had given her something like a smile. Something like a goodbye, even as Lena glared back with anger and guilt tight in her chest, something like a promise that he would fix everything.

Something must have changed since then. Lena doesn't know if she is relieved or destroyed by the thought.

"And now you've decided to return," Lena says. "For what?"

Lex grins, eerily unlike himself. "What I've been working on is going to revolutionize technology," he says. "I figured it was high time Luthor Corp invested in something worthwhile." Now he takes a step closer, some misguided hint of hope in his eyes. "You can help me. Give up on your foolish little books. Use your genius for something good."

"You and I have very different ideas of what good is," Lena says, and she takes a step back, but only results in being flat against the door. "And like I said, I've given up on the company. Find someone else to help you."

"Well," Lex says, "if that's how you feel." He doesn't seem angry about her refusal. In fact, he looks almost _pleased_ , taking a seat again at his desk and pressing his fingertips together. "You're welcome to wait for Mom. We can all have dinner together."

"No thanks," Lena says. "I have work to do."

"I'm sure," says Lex, with a condescending smirk that Lena pointedly ignores.

"Goodbye, Lex," Lena says, swinging open the door to leave. It is as final as she has ever been, but before she can actually make her exit, she hears,

"You can't run from this forever, you know. You're a Luthor through and through. Just like me."

At some other point in time Lena would have been warmed by the thought. Overjoyed, even. But now all it does is make a chill run through her body; she closes the study door behind her before Lex can see her shiver.

.

.

.

The first half of her novel, per Cat's request, is set into her hands just before the end of July.

She surveys the thick stack of paper, the edge stained with chocolate from Clark's fingertips, and says, "So you've actually gotten some work done."

"I said I would, didn't I?" Lena says, noting how while Cat never tries to show that she's pleased, she looks about as close to it than she's ever been.

Cat flips through the first few pages, reading glasses slipping low on her nose, and nods approvingly. "And your mother?" she asks offhandedly, more engrossed in skimming the beginning of the novel. "She hasn't been around lately."

"My brother's back," Lena says. "She's otherwise occupied."

"Ah, the prodigal brother," Cat says. "I've heard all about him. This could be a good thing, right?"

"Maybe," Lena agrees, even though she knows it's not. Lex's presence is only working to distract their mother for a while; sooner or later she'll be back in Lena's life as insistent as ever.

Lena's not about to tell Cat that, though. As far as Cat's concerned, this is a step forward.

"Lena," Cat says, casting a skeptical glance at Clark, who has remained quietly consumed by playing with Lena's necklace, "I know it's not my place. But if you ever need someone to watch your boy, I know an agency that is very discreet."

"Discreet?" Lena echoes slowly, a surge of suspicion hitting her at once. "I'm...not sure what you mean."

"They specialize in cases like his," Cat says, scribbling down a number. Before Lena can freak out over the fact that Clark's been found out, Cat continues: "You know, high profile families and illegitimate children. Very tight security. Nothing would ever slip to the press."

"Oh," Lena says, taking the slip of paper as it's pushed across the desk in her direction. "Well, thank you, but I don't think that's necessary."

"There's no shame in it," Cat says, going right back to the novel as if she hasn't just insinuated that Lex has left an illegitimate child in Lena's care—and, furthermore, been unfazed by it. "If you ever need a breather."

Lena clears her throat. "I'll check it out," she lies, and changes the subject before she accidentally slips up with her cover story. "So how's Carter doing?"

It's Cat's turn to give her a suspicious look. "He's doing just fine," she says, giving the distinct impression that mentioning kids is only allowed if it's on her own terms.

"That's nice," Lena says, carefully taking the pendant on her necklace out of Clark's mouth. She drops that subject, too, and quickly attempts to muster up her professionalism. "So what do I need to do now? For the novel."

"The best thing you can do is keep writing the next half," Cat says, smoothing her hands over the unfinished manuscript. "I can get the revisions to you by next Sunday. How does that sound? We can talk about any concerns you have, and the direction you're going to take it."

"Sounds perfect," Lena says, and she almost holds her hand out to shake before she remembers it's covered in baby drool. She opts for a grateful nod in its place, and Cat surveys her skeptically once more before mirroring it.

"Then I'll see you then," Cat says, turning to her computer in her usual dismissal.

Lena makes it halfway out the door when she feels the sharp sting of the metal necklace string snap against her neck; Clark, who had been trying to pull it back into his mouth, gets so startled at the lack of resistance that he bursts into tears.

Siobhan, from her post outside Cat's door, immediately throws them a dirty look. Lena takes that as her sign to get back outside as soon as possible.

"Clark, it's okay," she says, trying to show him that he's still got the necklace clutched in his fist.

But he's upset, so much so that when Lena finally coaxes him into opening up his palm once they're safely tucked away into her car, the pendant is crushed. The broken chain falls from his fingers and he cries harder, so unlike his usual quiet self that Lena feels herself begin to panic.

"We're going to go home," she says, buckling him into his seatbelt as he sobs. She catches herself at last minute, throwing over her shoulder as she starts up the car, "Not your home. My home."

(She can panic later about the fact that she'd almost called her house _theirs_ later.)

The drive back does nothing to soothe him, and Lena feels sickeningly inept by the time they arrive. She doesn't know how to comfort him and it shows; he grips onto her painfully tight when she picks him up again, and all she can do is pat his back and try to make him relax.

Kara is outside, again, as she's taken to doing now that they're back in the frustrating not-really-friends-but-not-more zone. She waves at Lena as she walks up her driveway, but her gaze obviously lingers on a sniffling Clark.

"Everything okay?" Kara calls, abandoning whatever newest flower array she's planting today in favor of leaning against the fence. Concern furrows her brow as she seemingly takes in Clark's state, then Lena's.

"It's probably the heat," Lena assures her, at this point given up to the fact that she'll probably be bruised tomorrow. "He's fussy."

"He sure seems clingy today," Kara says, but for some reason the thought has made her frown.

"Yeah, he is," Lena says, fumbling in her bag for her keys as Clark unhelpfully squeezes her tighter; she fears she might start having trouble breathing if he continues. "Sorry, Kara, I wish we could talk more but—"

"Do you think I could hold him?"

The question catches her so off-guard that Lena's immediate reaction is to hug him a little closer. "Um," she says, "if you want, but I'm not sure he's—"

Kara, determination steely in her eyes, reaches over the fence and lifts Clark out of Lena's arms. He resists, briefly, but mostly he's stunned by the firmness of Kara's actions and blinks up at her. Well, that, and because her glasses immediately become his next target.

For a moment Lena feels like she's intruding, because the way Kara looks at Clark—it's so gentle, corners of her eyes crinkling as Clark attempts to grab at her glasses, lips forming a smile that isn't so much in awe as it is melancholy. Kara looks at Clark like she is seeing him again for the first time in a long time, and Lena wonders—not for the first time—who Kara _is,_ and why her eyes hold the heavy weight of the world in them.

Kara catches her watching, and it's like a spell is broken. "Sorry," she rushes out, handing a now-calm Clark back. "I...really like babies."

"No, it's alright," Lena says, as amazed as she is confused. "You must be great with kids."

"I guess you could say that," Kara says, and with an embarrassed flush, she takes a step back. "I'll leave you two to the rest of your afternoon."

"Right, and we'll leave you to your...gardening."

"Oh! That reminds me," Kara says. "Wait here." She heads back to her heap of seeds and flower pots and, while Lena watches, produces a small cactus from among the mess. "I got you a housewarming gift!"

Lena doesn't have the heart to tell her she's lived here for years, not when Kara is beaming so excitedly as she holds it out. "Oh, thanks," she says, gingerly balancing it in one hand as she transfers her keys to the other. Clark remains balanced on her hip, clinging to her shirt, but it's certainly not the best position. "It's certainly, er, prickly."

"I didn't know if you liked flowers," Kara says, "and sometimes flowers die too quickly. So I figured cacti make excellent houseplants, since they live long and don't need too much water, or sunlight, and since you say you're always busy—"

"Kara? You're rambling," Lena says. She has to admit that she finds it cute how Kara gets so passionate about plants, but the second she thinks it she remembers they're supposed to just be _friends_ , and a friend wouldn't think about how adorable Kara looks right now. Or how much she wants to kiss Kara again.

"Sorry," Kara says, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I'll let you go for real, promise. But if you don't like the cactus you can say so!"

"I love it," Lena says, which isn't exactly a lie. It's a charming gift, she has to admit, even if she's not much of a plant person; Clark is eyeing it with interest though, and she has to make a getaway before he decides to try to touch it. "Have a good night, Kara."

Kara smiles, softly, so prettily Lena almost forgets how to breathe. "Good night, Lena," she says, and then, "You too, Clark."

(Lena isn't sure if she's imagining it, but she swears Kara's shoulders seem to slump as she walks away.)

* * *

 **thanks for reading! the reviews last chapter made me cry they were all so nice! i think i replied to everyone, lmk if i missed anyone :)**


	4. four

**i know i updated this fic the most recently but the next chapter was so much easier to write than the others for some reason ? wild. anyway i can see myself wrapping this fic up in another 2, maybe 3 chapters? it really isn't meant to be a long one so here's hoping i follow through lmao.**

 **thanks so much for reading, and happy new year!**

* * *

The instant Lena steps out of the car the cameras go off.

She flounders for a moment at the first flash, and nearly stumbles on the pavement when she misses a step. But Winn is there, and his hand steadily fixes on her waist to help, keeping her grounded in a way she appreciates. If one part of dropping out of the business scene has taught Lena anything, it's that she hasn't missed the cameras; the press are as persistent of paparazzi, snapping tens of pictures before she's even managed to blink.

The frenzy of blinding flashes subdues once they realize she's not the Luthor they're on the lookout for. What they don't realize is that Lex is already inside, having gone through the back gate in order to avoid questions before his formal speech to the public. Nonetheless, Lena takes that as an opening; she grabs Winn's hand to pull him away once she gets the chance to.

"Wow," Winn says, once they've wandered far enough, "it's sort of like you're famous."

"I'd say I'm more notorious," Lena says, ignoring the awestruck drop of his jaw as they make their way into the venue. She is immediately recognized by security, and ushered in without a need for an invitation. "Thanks for coming, by the way. It's nice to have a friendly face here."

"Are you kidding? This is amazing!" Winn says. "Are all of your mom's parties this swanky?" He seems particularly charmed by the architecture, gawking up at the ceiling like a tourist until Lena not-so-subtly elbows him for it.

"When she wants something, sure," she says, taking his elbow before he wanders away. "Come on, I have to mingle. And you need to meet my mother."

"Uh, don't take this the wrong way, Lena, but I've met your mother. And that sounds terrible."

"I need someone to distract her while I talk to Lex," Lena reminds him, patiently dragging him over to where both Lilian and Lex are putting on their best show faces. "Pretend you love her work."

"Your _brother's_ here? Didn't he leave town?"

"My mother's decided the best way to get over his anti-alien stint is to address the issue, not ignore it," Lena mutters. "And I still have a lot to talk to him about."

Winn gulps, tugging at his bow tie nervously. "Okay," he says. "You don't think she remembers me, does she?"

"I'm positive she won't," Lena assures him, and gives him an encouraging push forward. Once her mother is aptly distracted—albeit annoyed—Lena pushes through the crowd, and Lex spots her a few yards before she reaches him, corners of his mouth twitching as if he's about to smile.

"Lena," he says once she's close enough, giving a charming grin for the cameras as they start to go off. "You made it."

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world," Lena lies through gritted teeth, all too aware of the cameras trained on them. "We need to talk."

"And here I thought you'd gotten it all off your chest last time we spoke," Lex says, taking a slow sip out of a champagne glass. He easily snags a flute for Lena off a passing tray, holding it out with a practiced flourish. "Can't it wait until after the press release?"

"I don't plan on sticking around too long after," Lena says, and if she could sneer at him, she would; unfortunately, she's left giving him the most fake smile she's ever mustered in her life.

"Ah, that's right. You have a baby to get home to, am I right?"

His words are like a bucket of cold water. Lena's jaw tightens, but she refuses to seem too affected otherwise. "I see Mom's caught you up," she says, graciously accepting the champagne flute after all.

"She's very concerned about the company you're keeping nowadays," Lex says.

"Oh, I'm sure she is," Lena says dryly. She doesn't offer anything else, and Lex—who hates to have her be a step ahead of him—abandons the tact.

"I'm assuming there's a story. About this boy."

Lena takes a small sip of champagne nonchalantly. "Sure there is," she says. "That's exactly what I came here for. I won't ask about whatever it is you and mom are up to, and you stay out of my life. How's that sound?"

"You make us sound so sinister, Lena," Lex says. "We're family. I wouldn't turn your back around so easily."

"Is that a threat?" Lena challenges, crossing her arms even though she knows the press will notice how defensive she's become.

But Lex only smiles. "You'll change your mind," he says. He speaks casually, but his words broker no argument; his eyes, sharp and cold, even seem to say _or else_.

Lena presses her lips together just as coldly. "Then let me be more clear, Lex," she says. "I'm only here because I need to be. For me. You can go to _hell_ for all I care."

Lex's smile grows. "You don't mean that," he says, as if the thought is nothing short of amusing. "My offer still stands. I'd love to hear your input on what I'm working on."

"And I'll pass, shockingly," Lena says. "You know, there's nothing stopping me from going to the board myself and making a case of my own. I would move forward more carefully if I were you."

"Sure, but who would they trust? The CFO who quit and took up romance novels, or the devoted CEO who has come back in their time of need?" Lex is all too delighted by this, as if he's back to being one step ahead. "I'm trying to fix the family name, Lena. I'd assume you'd be thrilled about that."

"You and I have different definitions of _fix_ ," Lena says, and she smooths the lapels of his suit jacket with one hand, a means for an excuse to lean closer. "You've made your bed, Lex, and I'm not going to stop you. But you're not the only one who knows good business."

" _There's_ the Lena I know," Lex says, snapping his fingers proudly. "I've missed our talks. Haven't you?"

"Not particularly." Lena lets go, and takes another savoring sip of champagne for good measure; she almost wishes it was something stronger.

"I have to admit," Lex continues, "I'm surprised at how jaded you've become. Does that come with motherhood?"

Lena wants nothing more than to reply a few choice words, but she won't give him the satisfaction. "I think I need some air," she says, feigning politeness. "Have a nice night, Lex."

Lex watches her go; she can feel his gaze boring into her back. But she never once turns back around.

In her haste to go, she forgets Winn. But he's a smart guy. He'll figure out a way to get away from her mother. And while she waits, she steps out onto the balcony with another flute of champagne, her grip on the thin glass so tight her knuckles are white.

She regrets showing up. She regrets leaving Jess and Clark behind. She regrets even humoring her mother's inane wish to put on a good face for the press in the first place. If only she could learn to say _no_ , then maybe she wouldn't be in this situation, acting like everything's alright and she doesn't want to publicly denounce her family's name.

(This is how Veronica Sinclair finds her.)

Lena recognizes the sound of Veronica's heels before she hears her speak; that, and the all-too-familiar lingering scent of smoke that is poorly masked by some sharp, expensive perfume. It smells like boarding school bathrooms, and late nights on damp, dewey grass lawns, and for a moment Lena has to admit she is utterly dumbstruck.

"If it isn't Lena Luthor," drawls that low, seductive voice, and in a second Veronica is by her side. "Come out here for a smoke, too?"

Veronica looks different, and that's to be expected. Gone is the prim schoolgirl with a permanent sneer on her lip, replaced with a young woman in a slinky dress, tattoos peeking out from beneath a shawl and mouth twisted into a smirk.

"I quit," Lena says, eyeing the cigarette in between Veronica's lips skeptically. "I didn't know you were in National City."

"Just arrived," Veronica says airily, and if she's surprised by how Lena has changed too she doesn't show it. "I'm surprised you haven't heard."

"I don't exactly keep tabs on you."

"That hurts, Lena," Veronica says, smiling as she blows a ring of smoke out into the cool night air. "After everything we've been through?"

"Boarding school was ages ago." Lena's skin itches uncomfortably; it's been years since she quit, and yet, every now and again she feels the urge for a cigarette hit her so hard it hurts.

"I thought we were closer friends than that," says Veronica, feigning hurt. There is a curious twinkle of _something_ in her eye, a flash of emotion as melancholy as it is mischievous.

"That was a long time ago, too," Lena says quietly, and Veronica's blood-red lips curl upwards almost apologetically.

"Well, I've heard all about you," Veronica hums. "Smoking's not the only thing you quit, right? Dropping the Luthor brand...bold, even for you."

"No one can really escape the Luthor brand," Lena scoffs, allowing herself a gulp of champagne for her suddenly dry mouth. "But I've distanced myself as much as I can."

"You could've taken over, after Lex left," Veronica says, so simply one might mistake the topic for casual banter, but the way her eyes glitter in the dark tells a different story. "Why didn't you?"

It's a loaded question, one that Lena has dodged for weeks from the press, and the most she musters in response is a weak shrug. "Maybe I'm not cut out for business," she says.

"Don't be daft," Veronica scoffs. "You could have had it all if you wanted. I know that much about you."

"My mother was more than happy to take Lex's place," Lena says. "And I have no interest in the direction the company's going."

She chooses not to include how she'd almost done it—she had been prepared to make Luthor Corp a force for good, and disregard the dangerous direction it was headed. She had been prepared to change the legacy of her name forever. But she hasn't seen Veronica in years, and close as they were as two obnoxious teens put together because of their families' statuses, she certainly isn't going to divulge that her own mother was the one who voted against her.

Veronica accepts that with a slight nod of her head; if she believes there's more to the story, there's no way in knowing. "Shame," she says, stubbing out her cigarette. "I've been thinking of investing into business myself, and your mother isn't half as pretty."

"You? And business?" Lena shakes her head, completely ignoring the subtle flirtation. "There has to be a real reason you came to National City."

"I'm a woman of opportunity." Veronica gives her a secretive smile, coyly tucking a strand of hair behind Lena's ear; her fingertips linger, brushing from behind her ear to the edge of her jaw. "And from what I hear, this city's become more interesting than I thought."

Lena regards Veronica curiously for a moment, then turns away, finishing the last of her champagne. "I hope you find what you're looking for, then," she says simply.

"I'll let you know if I do," Veronica says, unfazed at the brush-off, and she disappears back into the party as easily as she left it.

.

.

.

Lena resolves to try and live her life as she did before.

There are a few obvious parts she has to work around—but Lex and her mother are easy to avoid, now that they're absorbed in working together. Taking care of Clark is substantially harder, but he's not a burden, necessarily; he's just young, and needy, and she certainly understands the horror stories of new parents now.

On the plus side, he does inspire her to leave the house more often. Lena is just coming home from the corner store—Clark strapped to her chest in that stupid, stupid baby carrier—when she finds Kara outside her house, as usual.

The instant Kara sees her walking down the sidewalk, she begins to frantically wave them over. "Lena!" she calls. "Come see—the seedlings are growing!"

"What are you growing?" Lena asks, awkwardly making her way across Kara's lawn. She's never been in Kara's front yard before. Or even in her house, come to think of it, even though Kara has been over plenty of times to Lena's..

"I think they might have been bean plants, but I'm not really sure." Kara frowns at the soil, using a gloved hand to brush some dirt off one of the new leaves. "I forgot to put signs up to remember."

"Well, you can wait to see what they are when they start growing," Lena suggests apologetically. Clark makes a soft distressed noise, as if he too is distraught about the plants, and Kara laughs.

"Yeah," she says thoughtfully, but she doesn't look annoyed at all. Excited, maybe, and she directs a sunny grin up at Lena because of it. "Isn't life fascinating? Plants grow so slowly, but they die so quickly. It's ironic."

"Everything dies quickly," Lena says without thinking. _Great, now she's bringing up death to her cute neighbor as if nothing_. "Plants, I mean. I've never been much of a gardener, as you can tell, though I do like flowers."

"Your flowers are _beautiful_ ," Kara says reverently. "How long have you been growing them?"

"Oh, well, my house actually belonged to my father," Lena says. "He was very fond of roses. My best guess is he grew them for years, but I don't really know."

At the mention of her father, Kara's cheery smile vanishes. "I'm sorry," she says. "You said 'was,' so that means…"

"He's dead, yes," Lena says, embarrassed to have brought it up. "I'm sorry. That was, um, inappropriate. I really haven't talked about him in years, I didn't mean to mention it."

Kara rises to her feet, a soft understanding in her eyes. "No, that's okay," she says. "It helps to talk about stuff like this, apparently. Or at least that's what my therapist says." A pause. "Should I be telling you what my therapist says, or is that weird?"

"It's a little weird," Lena says, but she feels a smile curling at the edge of her lips. "Thank you, Kara."

"For...telling you about my therapist?"

"No," Lena says, and this time the smile slips through, an accompanying flush coming to her cheeks as she speaks. "For being my friend. I don't really have many friends, so…"

Kara blinks, as if caught off guard. "Neither do I," she says. The weight of the admission seems to surprise her, and she laughs it off somewhat uneasily. "I-I mean, I don't really have any friends here, since I moved here recently and I haven't met a lot of people. I have tons of friends back home! Lots of them."

"Right, of course." Lena waits until Kara looks back at her to curiously ask, "So where did you say you were from, again?"

"Uh." Kara freezes, and quickly looks away. "Oh, you know...here. But not _here_ here. Close by."

"So why the change of scene?" Lena says. "Do you have family here?"

"Not exactly." Kara shrugs off the question, busying herself with taking off her gloves and avoiding eye contact. She stuffs them into her back pocket, caked in dirt as they are, and moves on to picking up a watering can. For a moment Lena thinks that's it, that's all she has to say on the matter, when Kara goes on: "Can I show you something?"

"Sure?"

That's all the go-ahead Kara needs, and she gestures with her head towards her open front door. Lena follows her in, inwardly thinking to herself that this might be ominous if it weren't so _strange_. Plus, it's hard to take anything seriously when she's wearing this ridiculous baby carrier; she's more preoccupied trying to figure out how she's going to discreetly take it off.

Kara's house is nothing like Lena expects it to be. There are still boxes that are not unpacked lining the walls, but otherwise, it is immaculate. There are no pictures hanging, no rugs on the floor, no sign that she's even moved anything in beside the couch and a small table in the kitchen. There are not even any dishes on the counters, or any food to be found.

The entire place is so freakishly empty that one would assume Kara is moving out, not in. But Kara doesn't seem bothered, reaching right into one of the many unpacked boxes and taking out a large picture album to show.

"Look," Kara says, "I want to show you my sister."

That is not the most unexpected thing to come out of Kara's mouth, and yet, it makes Lena pause. "Your sister?"

"I told you all about her," Kara says. "We're...sort of estranged, at the moment. We don't see eye-to-eye on a lot of things."

Lena takes a seat on the couch when Kara does, thankfully allowing a moment to take the baby carrier off and sit Clark up on her lap. She looks to the pictures that Kara shows, grainy pictures of herself and the young woman who must be her sister. They both have wide smiles in nearly every picture, except for the older ones; then, Kara seems a bit withdrawn, shying away from a camera that her older sister rolls her eyes at.

"Is she the reason you left home?" Lena asks quietly, not quite sure how far she's allowed to question.

"No." Kara smooths over what looks to be a recent picture, half-sticking out of the page. "I left because I wanted a fresh start, and Alex was worried. Well, she _is_ worried. Even if she doesn't think it's the right thing to do, I like to think she supports me even if she doesn't call that much."

"I'm sorry, I had no idea." Lena feels Clark sink back against her, sleepily nuzzling close to her chest, and she gently holds him close. "My brother and I were very close once, too. But he's changed, and...I don't think we'll ever be close again."

Kara meets her gaze, and a corner of her mouth drops apologetically. "Clark's father?" she says.

"...yes." Lena almost always forgets that part of the lie; she wishes she could take it back. "He was the one person who made me feel welcome in my family after my father took me in. My father tried, sure, but I was young...and Lex knew how to make me smile, when I didn't think I ever could."

"He sounds like he can't be all that bad," Kara says, obviously in an attempt to lighten the mood, but all it does is make Lena's heart heavy.

"No, he is." Lena isn't about to air her family's dirty laundry before her new friend, though, so she opts to be vague. "Let's just say our morals aren't aligned all that well, if at all."

Kara stares at Clark, no subtlety in the way she does so. "That can't be a good thing," is all she says, slowly, like she's caught up in thought.

"Definitely not," Lena says, and it feels like something's changed; Kara is watching her now, a million questions in her eyes, and Lena feels exposed in the most unflattering way. "Maybe I should go, Clark's going to fall asleep."

In the blink of an eye, Kara is back to herself, sheepishly tucking the photo album back into its box. "Oh, you don't have to," she says. "You can set him on my bed, if you...want to stay? We could watch a movie or something."

"Okay," Lena finds herself saying. "Why not?"

That's what friends do, right? Friends sit thigh-to-thigh on a spacious couch, and watch really bad romance movies, and drink a whole bottle of wine together in one sitting? All the while avoiding looking at each other, and focusing intently on Kara's laptop instead? Yeah. Lena doesn't think so either.

She doesn't want to count Kara as oblivious, but maybe she is, just a little bit. Kara is a very tactile person, and she ends up touching Lena a lot in the smallest of ways; her fingers brush Lena's while passing her a glass, and her knee bumps against Lena's when she gets excited. At one point Lena thinks Kara is about to rest her head on Lena's shoulder, but she seemingly decides against it.

Lena finds that she can't really focus on the movie after all. Not that that's a bad thing; it's cheesy, and low quality, and stuffed to the brim with secondhand embarrassment. Kara seems to love it though, brightening with a childish glee when Lena watches her instead, and Lena knows then and there that having a crush is the worst feeling in the world.

But at the same time, seeing Kara genuinely relaxed in an unfamiliar place feels like progress; she's lowering her walls, too, and Lena feels warmed at the thought. She might not be half bad at making friends, even if there's a tug on her heartstrings that makes her ache for something more.

(Maybe she just needs to get laid.)

"Hey, you're not even watching," Kara's voice grounds her wandering mind, pulling her back to a reality in which their faces are mere inches apart. "Is it boring? I can pick something else."

"Sorry," Lena says, "I was just thinking about…" She doesn't even make up an excuse; her eyes are already falling to Kara's lips, and thoughts of soft kisses are running through her head. If asked, she will deny it, but she is rendered speechless all at once.

The way Kara looks then and there, basked in low light, is no different than any other version of Kara. There is nothing more special about the curve of her smile, or the expression in her eyes, and Lena doesn't know if it's the wine or this glimpse of a more emotional, less guarded Kara but she ends up leaning in.

Kara meets her halfway, and Lena just about melts. It is as chaste as that first kiss, just as questioning, and it is undoubtedly perfect. Kara seems a bit uncertain about where to place her hands, and she settles on Lena's waist, barely firm enough to feel.

Lena grips onto the front of Kara's shirt, a desperate sort of clutch to the fabric really, and Kara seems to understand; her hands hold Lena's hips more boldly after that, thumbs sweeping over the loops of her jeans and managing to make her shiver as they brush slivers of exposed skin.

Before Lena can truly test the boundaries, Kara moves back, still close enough that Lena feels her breath ghost over her lips as Kara whispers, "I don't think we're doing this friends things right."

"Is that a bad thing?" Lena whispers back shyly, and a press of Kara's smile against her open mouth is the answer.

Well, that, and her next hushed murmur: "Jury's still out."

.

.

.

It's Jess's idea to take Clark out.

Lena maintains that she takes him plenty of places—the backyard, around the neighborhood, CatCo, and even Kara's house. But Jess won't be swayed.

"I'm pretty sure I read this in a magazine once," Jess says as they make their way through the supermarket. "It was something about places to stimulate excitement."

"So he's just going to get excited over gluten-free bagels."

"I'm going to let your sarcasm slide because you're struggling with your book and this is probably just some tortured artist thing," Jess says. "Right, Clark?"

Clark lifts his head up at the sound of his name, but when he finds nothing interesting he continues to busy himself with the strings of Lena's sweatshirt, and Lena can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

"Fine," she admits. "I guess we have to start somewhere." Even if it's from some celebrity gossip magazine, she thinks, but she doesn't say that aloud.

"And I'm worried about the state of your fridge," Jess is sure to add as they make their way down the produce aisle. "If you start living off of Clark's baby food I might have to stage an intervention."

"Oh, so this isn't an intervention?" Lena says.

"This is for Clark's sake, don't be selfish," retorts Jess with a well-timed click of her tongue. She bags a large amount of kale with practiced ease, and Lena gives in and reaches past her for some carrots.

Clark remains sitting up patiently in the cart, grasping at whatever is in reach, which is only disastrous when he accidentally tugs hard enough on the apple display to make a few tumble from the top of the stack. Admittedly, this is why Lena's been worried to take him out much; his powers come at the most random—often inconvenient—moments, and it's easier to hide him away than take a chance.

But it's also no way to live, and Lena knows Jess is right. He's just a little kid, and he doesn't know any better, so Lena patiently picks up the apples off the floor and bags them so she can pay for those too.

A beep from her phone momentarily distracts her from the task at hand; it's Kara, and she's sent a very long message about the state of the sunflowers she's started growing. That, and a bunch of questions about what Tinder is and why her sister has continued to press her to use it.

Jess coughs, not-quite-discreetly, just as Lena has begun to type out a reply. "Is it your girlfriend?" she asks.

"It's Kara," Lena negates. "And you know we're just friends."

"Right, you say that, except every time I come over you two are two seconds away from jumping each other right in front of me. It's very disturbing."

"It's complicated," Lena says. "She's...I don't know, she's trying to have a fresh start. Maybe that means she's not in the right place for a relationship right now. And you know I'm not exactly open to dating either. I have Clark to think about."

"Okay, fair enough," Jess says. "But hey, there's a really sweet girl in the tech department at work, if you ever want something casual."

"Jess!"

"What? She thinks you're cute. Gushes about your face all the time, since it's still plastered all over the walls," Jess says. "Which is weird, come to think of it. I think your mother's holding out hope you'll come back."

"You're right, this is officially too weird. Can we drop it?"

Jess raises her hands faux innocently. "Consider it dropped," she says. "Let's go check out the ice cream selection in this bougie place—at least Clark can't knock over a whole freezer. Wait, do you think he can?"

"Let's not try and find out," Lena says, and she leads the way.

While Jess pushes the cart, Lena types out the reply to Kara she couldn't, which admittedly isn't as put-together as she'd planned it to be; all it reads is _why does your sister want you to try tinder?_

It's about as subtle as a freight train, and Lena huffs in frustration at the jealousy leaking into her tone and shoves her phone back into her pocket. She should've said something else. Like about the fact that Kara's sister is calling her again, which must be a big deal.

 _Stupid_ , she thinks, _so stupid_. It's not like Kara is going to tell her sister about Lena. Why would she? They're just friends.

"Half of the ice cream here is vegan," Jess says, distastefully, when Lena catches up. "How do you feel about bourbon vanilla?"

"It doesn't sound bad," Lena says absentmindedly, still thinking about her failure at keeping a conversation friendly.

"Never mind, I can't be responsible for enabling you. How about Mexican chili chocolate instead?"

Just then, Lena's phone buzzes to life with a reply. Kara's text reads _I don't know, I think she wants me to make friends_.

Despite herself, Lena feels a smile forming on her lips. _Kara, what do you think tinder is?_ she says.

 _a place to meet people? that's what alex tells me_ , comes the next text.

This time, Lena really does smile; she shakes her head to herself, and types out her response: _it's a site to meet single people to date. Or meet up with for casual sex, even._

Kara takes a moment to text back. When she does, it's a confused, _why would alex want me to use it then?_

 _I don't know_ , Lena replies. _Maybe she wants you to date someone_.

Kara doesn't text back after that, and Lena forces herself to put her phone away again when Jess taps Lena's forehead with a cold carton of ice cream.

"Earth to Lena," Jess says, lowering the carton unapologetically. "Is that a yes or no on the chocolate?"

"Sure," Lena says, wiping away the ice off her face with a frown. "But was that necessary?"

"It looked like you needed the wake-up call." Jess puts the ice cream into the cart triumphantly, and then reaches for a second carton. "Where to next? Bread?" She is, of course, not trying to pry again; it gives Lena the strength to sigh and forget about it for now.

"Okay," she agrees. "Bread."

.

.

.

"I've done something bad. Really, really bad."

"You'll have to be more specific, Winn," Lena says, confusedly propping her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she spoons a bite of green mush into Clark's mouth.

"Right. Sorry. I meant to say hi first, for the record," Winn adds. "So hey! Hi! H-how are you doing?"

"Now you're worrying me," Lena says slowly, and she sits down at the kitchen table apprehensively. "What happened?"

"Nothing I can't handle! Just give me a few hours, and I can try to wipe your brother's computer memory."

Lena pauses, hand mid-air, and only remembers to deliver the next spoonful when Clark shrieks. "I feel like there should be the middle of a story there somewhere," she says.

"I couldn't hack Maxwell Lord's mainframe, alright? I tried to sneak into his office but they said IT didn't have clearance. So I figured, why not try to hack your mom instead? She's got labs and stuff too, so I was thinking maybe she's taking Lord's example. Except I could only crack through one computer."

"And it was Lex's," Lena finishes, pinching the bridge of her nose tiredly. "Does he know?"

"It's a 50/50 chance. His software completely exposed mine—so he's going to know he was hacked, but I'm still not sure if he's going to be able to track where the hack came from. I can try and rewrite my software to throw him off course…"

"Or?" Lena prompts when he trails off.

Winn hesitates. "I can risk trying to download what I found to show you," he says. "I've skimmed a bit of it, but Lena—it's bad. It's so bad."

If it were only Lena on the line, she would, without hesitation, opt for the second choice; she needs to know how her brother is ruining himself further. But it's _Winn's_ computer, and he's going to be the one Lex finds if what Winn suspects is true.

"Make sure he can't trace your location," Lena says, mind firmly made up. "I can't let him find out you're involved. I don't know what he's capable of, but it can't be good."

"But we could have proof! Of the bad stuff your brother is doing! And, by extension, your mother probably. Wouldn't it be worth it?"

"Winn, listen to me," Lena says. "I think Lex has the potential to be very dangerous. Not only for your job, but for _you_. We can't risk it."

For a moment the only sound she hears is furious typing. Then, "What if I could do both? I've started the first file download. I can't rewrite my software to make it seem like his computer is making a mistake, but I can change my location, make it seem like the hack happened somewhere else, and once I send you the files I can trash my computer."

"Where are you thinking?" Lena asks, so worried that she's forgotten about the baby food sitting in front of her. Her sleeve falls close to Clark's high chair, and he grabs onto the hanging fabric with a desperate whine, reminding her to give him another mouthful of peas.

"I don't know yet. A library maybe? Something that won't throw a random person under the bus."

"Somewhere public would have cameras. It could still be too big of a risk," Lena says. "I have a better idea, but you're not going to like it."

"Okay…" Winn starts. "Technically I know this is illegal, but would this idea be _more_ illegal, or…"

"I need you to make my house the location of the hack."

Winn's voice morphs into a confused sputter. "What? You just told me he was dangerous! And you have Clark, you can't possibly—"

"I'm his sister," Lena says. There's silence on the other end, and she guesses it came out sharper than intended. "He wouldn't hurt me."

"How sure are you about that?" Winn asks quietly.

"About as sure as I can be," replies Lena grimly. "Can you do it or not?"

"I'll do it." There's more rapid typing on the keyboard. "He'll probably confront you about it, at least. Are you sure you want to take that chance?"

"I can leave Clark at Jess's for a few days and confront him myself. That way I'll make sure he won't stop by my house," Lena says. At his name, Clark looks over at her, the absolute picture of childish innocence; something about the way he stares tugs at Lena's emotions.

"I can reroute it in the next fifteen minutes, and call you when I'm done with everything?"

"That would be perfect," Lena says. "And Winn?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," Lena breathes out, gaze fixated entirely on Clark as she wipes some baby food off his chin. "I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

"Hey, you keep yourself and that baby safe and we'll count it even," Winn says, and it sounds like he's grinning, despite the obvious underlying worry in his tone.

Once she hangs up, Lena makes the obligatory call to Jess, who of course spends ten minutes or so alternating between telling Lena off for the decision and then quietly assuring her she would've done the same thing.

Jess comes by to pick up Clark in the next ten minutes, still dressed in her formal Luthor Corp getup. Lena gathers all she can fit into a bag for him to take, and Jess finishes feeding him by the time she's done. They've decided it's easier to take him now rather than later, in case Lex notices something is awry with his computer.

"Be careful, would you?" Jess murmurs as they make their way to the car. "Whatever shit your family's involved in—it doesn't matter as long as you're safe."

"You be careful, too," Lena says. "Don't let my mother suspect Clark is with you. If anyone asks, his mother came back to pick him up. I'll keep you posted on my end, too."

"You'd better." Then Jess hugs her, which is a surprising move; she doesn't get easily sentimental, but the firm, protective way she pulls Lena close tells a different story. "I can start the car, if you want to say goodbye to Clark."

The first thing Lena thinks is that is an odd idea to say; he's not going away forever, and he stays with Jess all the time. This is just slightly different circumstances—admittedly dire ones—and besides, Lena can always go visit.

But the way Clark looks up at her as she straps him into his car seat makes her pause. He reaches his arms out for her, waiting to be lifted out, face scrunched up in the most adorable confusion that Lena has to swallow back a lump in her throat.

"See you in a few days, okay?" she whispers, pushing that familiar curl off his forehead. "Don't be too much trouble."

He starts to cry as she shuts the car door. It's never been harder to walk away.

.

.

.

There is a strange push-and-pull to her relationship with Kara, and Lena isn't quite sure if it's a good or bad thing.

One thing she does know is this: Kara is opening up, and at least that's a plus. Kara hasn't asked about Clark's absence beyond a simple inquiry once, and instead, has seemingly taken it upon herself to cheer Lena up.

(It's been a week without Clark, and Lena hasn't had the courage to go to Lex.)

Lex has also been suspiciously quiet, though every once in a while he'll send a smug text suggesting she come over for a family dinner, or congratulating her on whatever small press has started to float around the book company websites for the pre-order of her book. Lena wonders if he's even noticed that he's been hacked.

In the meantime, the files Winn had downloaded remain faithfully on her computer. He was right about them being bad. In fact, they're terrifying. Every known alien species is being carefully documented; their weaknesses, their strengths, the ways they can be exploited. Among the files are a few likely stolen government reports, all of them focused on the ways these aliens are coming to Earth.

One note, an offhanded one really, contains a small account of a pod that crashed not too far from Lena's house. It was found empty, and registered as a non-threat, just a scrap of alien metal that likely fell off a larger ship that a much more detailed account goes into. But it makes Lena think about Clark, and how he could have been in that pod, and how if that's true there's no way he must have a family waiting for him.

It is too much information to process. If it weren't for Kara—and the sake of keeping appearances—Lena might have been holed up all day, sorting through every single file by herself without pause.

But as it is, Kara is very excited to share her favorite spots with Lena, and that's how she ends up being dragged to a Chinese restaurant.

This is one of the pull parts of the relationship, surely; Kara takes Lena's hand, smoothing her thumb over the back of it, the sensation so ticklish Lena's heart almost skips a beat to imagine a kiss over the skin instead.

"I love the potstickers here," Kara tells Lena as they take a table, one close to the back and partly shielded from the crowd. "What do you like to eat?"

"It doesn't matter. Anything's better than what I have at my place," Lena says lightly. "I have some weird spicy ice cream in my freezer that I don't remember buying, so this is a welcome change."

A part of Kara's excitement fades, and that's how Lena realizes that Kara had been aiming for something like first date banter, covering favorite foods and music and the like. Lena has to take a large gulp of her water to look away, suddenly embarrassed.

For her credit, Kara recovers quickly. "I wanted to ask you more about your book," she says. "Have you figured it out yet?"

"A little," Lena lies. "It's, um, it's getting there." Truthfully her book has been the least of her worries, and she's taken to avoiding Cat's calls because of it. She traces the edge of the table with her fingers awkwardly; now that she's imagining this is a date, it's much harder to look Kara in the eye.

"Sorry," Kara says. "Sore subject?"

"No, it's...it's just not interesting, honestly," Lena says. Before Kara can object, Lena continues, "Besides, I'd like to know more about you."

"What about me?" Kara asks. Unlike before, where the mere mention of opening up would make her expression darken, she looks cautiously expectant. There is something like a smile on her lips, though the corner of her bottom lip is trapped between her teeth as if steeling herself at the same time.

"I don't know," Lena says. "Anything. Everything?"

At that, Kara laughs, apprehensiveness melting away. "Everything, huh?" she says, fixing the glasses that remain perfectly still on her nose. "I can try my best, but I'm not sure I'm that interesting either."

"I find that hard to believe," Lena retorts, pleased to see that Kara's cheeks tinge pink at the comment. "Would you tell me about gardening? Why do you like it so much?"

"Oh, well—I used to live in a very small apartment, with Alex," Kara says. "I never had the chance to grow anything out of a pot. Alex thinks this new house is too isolated, but I like it. The quiet is nice."

"You do seem the type," Lena decides. "Like in a goes-to-bed-at-nine-every-night sort of way."

"Is that an insult?" Kara says cheekily. "Or are you just calling me predictable?"

"You're anything but predictable," Lena promises shyly, and she takes the chance to rest her hand over Kara's on the table. The warmth of her skin makes her feel dizzy, and if the way Kara gazes back at her is any indication, there's no way she can be reading this wrong.

"Lena, I…"

Before she can say anything, their order comes to the table. Kara seems to think better of whatever she had tried to say, and quickly changes the subject to the foods Lena has to try. This isn't too much of a shift from earlier after all; something has changed, and the air seems charged with electricity, crackling so loud that Lena can't hear right.

Kara tells her about her childhood, about her sister, and Lena tells her about Lex—not so much about this new side of him, but the side she remembers fondly, the parts of him that she misses. It's easy to talk to Kara, who holds no judgement in her eyes, who smiles so beautifully every time she's amused by some part of Lena's stories, who runs the pads of her fingertips over Lena's wrist reassuringly.

By the time they leave, Lena feels _hope_ bubbling in her chest. This feels like the start of something, and the thought distracts her from all the secrets, all the horrors of her family, all the nights alone; Lena steps outside before Kara, who stays behind to pay, and finds that even the hot summer air can't ruin her mood. She takes out her keys to start up the car, shuffling through her bag as she walks towards the curb with the remnants of a smile still on her face.

But in a blink-or-miss-it moment she suddenly finds herself on the ground, cheek scraping hard against the pavement; before she can shout indignantly at whoever is shielding her with their body, she sees her car go up in flames.

Stunned, she remains on the floor, even as the person who tackled her rises to their feet. From here she can feel the heat of the explosion, watching as the flames lick up from the underside of her car and up, heavy black smoke swirling up into the air.

Lena is mesmerized watching it. The fire is slowly burning brighter, reaching higher and higher, and it's not until she hears a familiar gasp that she tears her eyes away.

"Lena, are you okay?" Kara says, frantically helping Lena to her feet. Her hands brush the hair out of Lena's face, barely grazing her scraped cheek.

Lena winces, stepping back on quivering legs, and nods her head jerkily. "I don't know what happened," she croaks out, voice so shaky she almost doesn't recognize it.

Kara reels back, but not too far, gripping onto the edge of Lena's jacket as if she'll lose her if she lets go. "Lena, I'm sorry," she says, anguished, swallowing so hard that Lena sees the exact moment her eyes go wet with tears. "I'm so sorry. I should've…"

"Kara, I'm okay," Lena says, and she has to admit, she's surprised at the horror on Kara's face. This has nothing to do with Kara; it's _her_ car that caught fire, and admittedly, she's still not entirely sure how that happened.

"I shouldn't have brought you here," Kara says, and she lets go of Lena's jacket as if burned. She whirls around, a resigned heaviness making her shoulders slump as she finds what she's looking for. "Alex."

Lena gets her first real glimpse of Kara's sister, then, as she comes face-to-face with the woman who had saved her. But Alex doesn't spare Lena a glance; she's focused entirely on Kara, and with a sharp, indifferent voice she says,

"Hi, Kara."


	5. five

**i managed to update quicker than last time, hey! two things about this chapter: i will always try to make a veronica redemption arc. always. and also, i love jess and hopefully you all love her as much as i do because she's great.**

 **shout out to celeste (over at florairmatylee on tumblr) for reading through this chapter for me & enduring my long rants about the plot of this fic- if you find a mistake, it's all her fault.**

 **ALSO if you follow my tumblr, i mentioned that i'm going to take a break from writing - probably not more than a month or two at best, only longer if something goes wrong, so i won't be updating anything for a while or taking prompts. hopefully i can come back sooner than later, but i really do need to take a step back and better myself & get to a point where i actually like the stuff i write.**

 **thank you all so, so much for reading this so far (and if you read my other stuff too). i hope i can come back soon and finish this fic ❤️**

* * *

Of everything that's occurred in the past few months, _this_ might take the cake for the most terribly awkward: standing in her kitchen, pouring coffee for her not-girlfriend and her not-girlfriend's sister.

Lena feels like she's interrupting something when she comes back out to the living room. Kara is all but glaring at Alex—Agent Danvers, as she had introduced herself to Lena—and Alex is staring back, nonplussed. Lena would think that, for all the quiet hurt in Kara's voice talking about her estranged sister once upon a time, she would be happier to see her.

"Thank you," Alex says, accepting the first mug that Lena offers. She looks different from the pictures; the lines of her face are harsher, and there is a scar across her cheek, white and faint, that moves every time she speaks. Short, choppy hair brushes her chin as she turns to gaze at Lena, so intently Lena feels like she's staring right through her. "I'm sorry, again, to impose like this."

"That's alright," Lena says, handing a cup to Kara next for an excuse to look away. "You saved my life. I figure I'm in your debt."

Kara clears her throat. "She put you in danger," she counters sharply, words meant for Lena but directed like an argument in Alex's direction. "It wasn't necessary to tackle her to the ground like some kind of criminal, Alex."

"I was doing my job," Alex says. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, Ms. Luthor." She's looking at Kara when she says it, though, so she doesn't see when Lena shrugs.

"It's fine," Lena tries, but Alex doesn't seem to really _care_ ; in an instant she's asking,

"Now can we get to business, or do you want to keep playing lawyer for your neighbor?"

Her dry tone only seems to make Kara fume, but she seemingly refrains from lashing out. "Fine," she says curtly. "Explain what happened."

"The city's bomb squad was tipped off about Ms. Luthor's car an hour before it was set to happen. The tipper gave us a time and a location and went dark, so a team and I were sent in to prevent civilian casualties. If you noticed, the area was roped off."

Lena feels like she's missing something, here, because the way Kara and Alex talk—it's as if they have an idea who might have done this. "Why didn't a bomb squad come to the scene, then?" she questions. "Why would they send you?"

"You're a public figure, Ms. Luthor," Alex replies easily. "The less high profile the situation the better."

"I don't understand. Who would plant a bomb in my car? How would anyone plant a bomb in my car without my knowledge?"

"We have no leads at the moment," Alex says. "I'll need you to come in for a statement with local police. But for now I would advise you to sit tight, because there's not much we can do without a possible motive."

Kara sets her untouched mug down onto the coffee table sharply. "You know _exactly_ —"

"Kara." There's a warning in Alex's voice, something dangerous; something that makes Kara's jaw clench. "Be careful about what you're trying to say."

"Lena hasn't been in the public eye for years," Kara amends. Her voice is weaker, more resigned, but there's an underlying sharpness Lena can't ignore. "She's not as high profile as you might think."

"Maybe," Alex says, though her tone suggests she doesn't believe it for a second. "Or maybe not. But a bomb isn't something to take lightly. Ms. Luthor, if I may, I suggest you lay low for a while. Until we can figure out what's going on, nothing is safe."

"With all due respect, Agent Danvers," Lena says, feeling overwhelmed, _confused_ , and with her cheek still stinging faintly in reminder of this crazy morning, "I'm already living a rather low-profile life. I'm a writer. I work from home. Now, unless my latest novel is somehow offending someone with the means to _kill_ me, I suspect there's more you're not telling me. Is this about my family?"

Alex is unfazed by the accusation. "It's a possibility," she grants. "We're theorizing this might have been a warning. The fallen Luthor heiress almost killed—it would shake up your mother. And your brother is back in town, isn't he? It might be timed just right for a lovely family reunion."

"You're telling me whoever planted that bomb wanted it to be found," Lena says. "And all to, what, make a statement to my family?"

"You're a pawn in their game, Ms. Luthor," Alex says. "I wouldn't overthink it. As long as you're not who they're after, there won't be a need to investigate further." She rises to her feet, and picks up her discarded jacket off the rack, casting another cautious glance in Kara's direction. "Thank you for your time. I'll be in touch if necessary."

She leaves without a single word to Kara, door slamming closed behind her. Kara watches her go, vexed furrow of her brow staying long after Alex has gone, one hand curled into a fist so tightly that she doesn't relax until Lena risks setting her hand over Kara's.

"Are you okay?" Lena asks, not sure if Kara even remembers that she's here or not.

It is as if Kara has to be dragged back to reality; her hand unclenches, slowly at first, and when she glances over at Lena she does so with a soft, pitying look in her eyes. "I should be asking you that," she says. "You could've died."

Maybe it's foolish, but that hadn't really occurred to Lena until that moment; she'd known the instant she saw her car go up in flames, and she'd known when Agent Danvers told her so. But knowing it now, it makes her laugh, weak and desperate.

She says, "I know," and her voice cracks through her laughter hysterically, almost a sob instead of fully-formed words, and Kara gently pulls her into a tight embrace.

Lena buries her face into Kara's shoulder. She should be embarrassed at how helpless she is at this moment, at how unrefined she's making herself seem, but right now her mind is racing. The only thing she can focus on is Kara—the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, the brush of her hair against Lena's nose, the warmth of her hands as she holds Lena close.

"I'm sorry," Kara breathes against the crown of her head. "It's probably my fault Alex even showed up. She never does anything so low-level, and now she's just...barging into my life again."

The bitterness of Kara's voice shocks her, just enough, to ask. "I thought you missed her," Lena says hesitantly. "Isn't it a good thing she's here?"

"I don't know." That's all Kara says, and Lena knows not to press.

So she wipes at her embarrassingly wet eyes instead, and shifts out of Kara's arms to do so. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess," she sniffles, absolutely sure that her mascara is smeared beyond repair. "I'm just so confused."

"Hey, don't be sorry." Kara follows Lena with her eyes, and with her hands, too; even if she's not hugging Lena, she places one hand warmly on the small of her back, and the other comes to rest on Lena's knee. "You get to freak out about this, okay? You almost died."

But that's not what Lena is so shaken by. Not by a long shot.

She's a Luthor; she's faced death threats plenty of times before, and certainly had more near-death experiences than any twenty-four year old woman should. But something so close—so personal—is nothing to disregard quite so easily as Agent Danvers had suggested. Only one part of the spiel of the aftermath of the event is true: it's a warning.

But it's a warning from her brother.

.

.

.

One thing Lena is prepared for, when it comes to having a key to Jess's place now: a lot more of Jess's meddling.

One thing Lena is _not_ prepared for, when it comes to having a key to Jess's place now: a lot of yelling, and then a pillow to her face because she's taken a chance to actually use said key.

"Jess!"

"Lena!"

"Ahh!" (That's Clark.)

"What are you _doing_?" Jess sputters, hitting the living room light in a disarray of fury. "A strange car pulls up here and leaves, and then my house is being broken into, and I'm thinking that I'm about to die because you can't bother to call me!"

"That strange car was my Uber!"

Clark yells, drawing their attention to where he sits on the floor. He's absolutely thrilled to see Lena, chubby arms impatiently grasping at air like he wants to be carried, and when Lena hesitates his face scrunches up like he's going to cry.

So while Lena hoists him up into her arms—which, admittedly, she'd wanted to do the instant she came over—Jess goes on, mostly to herself, as she gathers the pillow off the floor:

"You're going to make me have a heart attack. You're going to have to explain to my mother why I'm dead."

"I'm sorry I didn't call," Lena says. "Winn's worried my phone might be tapped, since…"

She hasn't been able to talk about the incident, really, but Jess does know the general gist of what happened. And it makes her go quiet, now.

"Right," Jess says. "I guess breaking in during the dead of the night is part of the plan, too?"

"It might be either more or less suspicious, according to Winn. He's done a lot of research—out of crime novels, though, so I'm not really sure I can take it too seriously." Lena feels Clark curl against her, contentedly dozing off against her shoulder, and she smiles. "I'm more concerned about the fact that you tried to attack me with a pillow."

"I'm not even awake right now, please keep your bullshit to yourself, thanks." Jess wanders off into the kitchen, and Lena laughs, directing the entirety of her attention on the comforting weight of Clark in her arms.

"I missed you," she tells him softly, and feels his grip on her shirt tighten. "It's so much quieter without you at home. I'm not sure I like it."

The word _home_ slips out all too easily this time around even though Lena knows better. It's hard, trying not to love this little boy, and it hurts to think that Lena can't help him at all beyond offering a temporary place to live. She'd give anything for a hint—something that might tell her where his home is, something that might even tell her his real name.

Jess emerges from the kitchen with coffee, and by then Lena has gravitated the couch, a sleeping Clark heavy in her arms and her thoughts hanging even heavier in her head.

"How are you holding up?" Jess asks, settling on the couch beside them and holding out one of the cups.

Lena takes it with one hand and, at the first sip, immediately grimaces. "Did you put tequila in this?"

"Sorry, that one's mine," Jess says, inadvertently answering how _she's_ holding up.

For a moment they sit like that, both of them nursing their mugs like they're bottles of beer, staring blankly into nothing. Lena feels tired all of a sudden, like every bone in her body is weighing her down to this couch, and suddenly all she wants to do is sleep.

"I'm not sure what's going on," Lena admits into the silence. "With Clark, with my brother...none of it makes sense."

"Mm-hm. I'll drink to that."

"What is Lex going to do with a database full of information on aliens? I'm a certified genius, Jess! I graduated from MIT in two years! How do I not know what my own brother is up to? Why would he be willing to kill me over this?"

"I don't know, Lena." Jess looks at her with such raw worry that Lena feels awful for bringing it up; she's dragged Jess headfirst into her mess, and now she can't save her from it. "You haven't...talked to him, have you?"

"No." Lena leaves out the part that she's _afraid_ to, but Jess seems to understand nonetheless. "I can't confront him. I try, and I try, but...I can't go see him. I can't even _call_ him. And if my mother is involved, somehow…"

"No offense, but your family's kind of messed up." Jess takes a large gulp of spiked coffee and sighs, sinking against the couch in a way that's just as exhausted as Lena feels. "So what's the plan? What do we do next?"

The question catches Lena off guard. "What do you mean?"

"You and Winn are trying to dig up dirt on whatever's going on in National City's corporation chain, aren't you? What's our next move?"

The way that Jess casually includes herself in this—whatever this is—it makes Lena's heart swell, to have a friend like Jess. "I might kiss you," she decides, if only to make Jess crack something like a smile.

"Gross," Jess says, and sure enough, the corner of her mouth quirks up. "I won't kiss you back now, you broke into my house."

"You gave me a key—technically I didn't even break in."

"I still won't kiss you. Your girlfriend might get mad." Jess leans over Lena's shoulder to whisper, quite dramatically, "I've seen her without a shirt on. Those arms could kill me."

"You're tipsy," Lena says fondly.

"I'm not kidding! She looks like she could bench-press me. Or you. Actually, you'd probably be into it."

"Okay, not more alcohol for you," Lena says.

Jess laughs, so unrestrained and warm that it's like music to Lena's ears. "How's she doing, anyway?" she asks, leaning her head against Lena's shoulder. "And her scary sister. Any luck figuring out what the hell she's doing digging around?"

"Nothing yet," Lena replies. "Winn can't seem to find anything good on Alex Danvers. Or Kara Danvers, for that matter. Not that we're looking into Kara, but, it's...weird. Alex at least has some stuff that we can find—public records, FBI related things that check out, but there's nothing for Kara. It's like she doesn't exist."

Jess nods along. "I have a theory."

"And that is…"

"She's a hippie who doesn't believe in the internet, and she's clearly barely entering society ten years too late."

"Right. That's exactly what I came up with too," Lena says, and she can't resist it; she dissolves into ridiculous laughter. Jess follows suit, smirking at her behind a mug, and she feels the most normal she's felt in weeks. "I almost died and I'm still here, thinking about relationship drama. I need to get my priorities sorted out."

"To be fair, you've almost died lots of times," Jess points out. "Honestly, having relationship drama is the newest thing that's happened to you in ages."

And she's not wrong, but all those other times—well, they hadn't been because of Lena. They had been because of her mother, because of Luthor Corp, because of capitalism and dirty laundry of business that has never been aired. Never because of something like this. Never from _Lex_.

But all Lena says about it now is a faint, "Yeah, I guess," as she looks back down at Clark. He's stirring in his sleep, somehow drawing her focus back on him even when he's not demanding it. "Do you think I should tell Kara about Clark?"

"Um, that's up to you." Jess blinks at her in poorly hidden confusion. "Do you trust her enough?"

"I don't know if I trust her," Lena says, carding her fingers through Clark's soft hair as she keeps her gaze fixed entirely on him. "But this is a huge thing to lie about, and I _want_ to trust her. It's a two-way street, right? I want her to open up to me but _I_ haven't really opened up to her, and...I like her, Jess. A lot."

It's terrifying to admit it aloud, and Jess looks at her like she's lost her mind, but if there's one thing they can agree on it's that this change might not be the most unwelcome thing in the world.

As it is, Jess only squeezes her arm reassuringly. "I know," she says. "It's kind of sad."

"...thanks?"

"Hey, no judgement. If weird, fit blondes are your thing...then by all means, let me book the photographer for your wedding," Jess says. "Are you a summer or a fall girl?"

Lena feels the involuntary beginning of a smile. "I hate you," she says, even if that couldn't be farther from the truth.

.

.

.

Luthor Corp feels...different.

Lena doesn't understand why that is at first, when she finally stops by to visit Lex. It's as remarkably ordinary as she remembers, with only one change—her picture in the lobby is shifted to the side, and instead of being side-by-side with her mother's it sandwiches Lex's picture between the two of them. Decorations aside, what really drives the point is that, as she moves to enter, security stops her at the metal detectors.

"ID, please," a man with cold blue eyes tells her, all monotoned practice, and Lena resists the urge to roll her eyes.

"I'll try not to be offended," Lena says, plucking her old badge out of her bag and handing it over.

Even with the name staring back at him, the man remains as stone-faced as ever. "You don't have the clearance to move forward," he says. "Line for making an appointment is back there."

"Excuse me?" Lena frowns. "I'm Lena Luthor. Emphasis on Luthor."

"I'm afraid you don't have the clearance to move forward," the man repeats, unmoved even under the heated scrutiny directed his way.

Lena squares her jaw; if this is how Lex wants to play it, then so be it. "Fine," she says. "Then tell Lex I want to see him. He'll want to hear what I have to say."

The security guard only nods towards the desk in the back. "I would advise you to make an appointment," he says. "Mr. Luthor is a busy man."

"And I'm a busy woman," Lena retorts. When she gets no response beyond a shrug, she sighs. "Have it your way, then. When he finds out you turned me away that'll be your problem."

Predictably, when she turns to go, she hears the guard cough into his fist. "Wait," he says gruffly. "I'm sure I can...give him a call, first."

Just as expected, she's waved through the instant Lex is phoned. The very same security guard leads her down the hall towards the labs, not Lex's office, and the question as to why gets answered almost immediately; whatever he's working on, it's all a very hands-on project.

She sees Lex's back first, tense and hunched over a table. She catches the end of a frustrated grunt as whatever he's holding short-circuits, but at the sound of footsteps he straightens; he's always like that when he realizes he has an audience, flashing a charming smile the instant he turns around.

"Lena," Lex says amiably. "So nice of you to visit." He dismisses the security guard, and gestures for Lena to move closer. "How's that baby of yours doing?"

"He's gone," Lena replies sharply. "His mom picked him up."

"Right, right. A friends of yours? I don't know if I ever caught her name."

"You don't know her." Lena knows there's nothing innocent about his questions, so she reaches past him to prod at the jumble of metal resting on the countertop. "What are you working on?"

"Nothing important," Lex says breezily, as if he hadn't been agonizing over it when Lena walked in. In fact, he picks it up and throws it into a nearby wastebasket. "It's a piece of junk, really. A mistake." Before Lena can ask about it further, he starts to wander, strolling towards his desk without another word.

"The infamous Lex Luthor, admitting to a mistake?" Lena snorts. "That doesn't sound like you."

"Oh, it's not _my_ mistake," Lex hums, starting up his computer. "I don't make many mistakes. You know that." He looks at her when he says it, eyes cold and mouth twisting into a fraction of a frown. "So. What brings you by?"

"I have a feeling you know," Lena says. "You don't make mistakes, right? Not even when trying to kill your own sister."

Lex's frown instantly becomes a smug smile. "Now this," he says, "this is what we're good at. Being frank with each other! Do you really think I'd kill you? Come on. You were never in any danger. I saw to that personally."

"You also planted a bomb in my car while I was out with a friend," Lena deadpans. "Forgive me if I'm not relieved."

"Well, you did hack me," Lex says. "An eye for an eye, all in some good fun."

Lena crosses her arms. "You always did have a flair for the dramatic," she says. "I hardly think downloading a few of your files is on par with trying to kill me."

"Hacking my personal computer is a bit insensitive, isn't it?" Lex _tsks_. "I guess that makes one more mistake of mine—not having the proper firewalls. But it's neat stuff, right? You must have had an interesting read or two."

"I don't know what you're up to," Lena says. "But whatever it is...you need to be careful about messing with the wrong people. If the board were to find out your stance on aliens again, well, I bet they wouldn't be thrilled."

"Your threats won't work," Lex says, smiling coolly. "I know you're worried about me. Really, I'm touched. But the board is going to change their minds, or else they're going to see just how fast this company will sink without me here. I don't suppose I can get you to finally rethink your own stance on me too, can I?"

"Not a chance," Lena replies sharply, but Lex's smile never falters.

"I'm giving you one last chance, Lena," he says. "You're lucky we're family, or else my patience would have worn thin ages ago. You already know you'll need to pick a side sooner or later. Is it going to be ours, or theirs?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lena says.

Lex reaches into his pocket for something. A card. "You will," he says, and he presses the card tightly into her palm. "I hope you'll make the right choice when it comes to it." He hits a button on his desk before Lena can glance at it; all at once, the security guard is back, placing his gloved hands on Lena's shoulders to take her away.

She jerks away from him. "Don't touch me," she snaps, and with one last, harsh glare at Lex, she makes her way outside by herself.

It's only when she steps foot on the sidewalk that she looks down at the card in her hand. It's relatively nondescript, white and plain and printed with golden ink; it only holds an address, a date, and a name to ask for.

The name is Veronica Sinclair.

.

.

.

Lena has decided to tell Kara the truth.

Not because it's a good idea, and not because it's going to help her with anything, but—well, she figures she owes it to her. She doesn't want to keep lying about Clark, and besides, she has an inkling that Clark misses her and she wants nothing more than to be able to bring him back for a visit.

Here's the thing: telling Kara the truth about Clark is significantly harder when she's decided, as if out of nowhere, to quit the _pull_ part of their relationship altogether.

They've never even defined whatever it is they have, but out of nowhere Kara's decided to change that. She doesn't do so with words, but it's different, now; she leaves flowers on Lena's doorstep, and texts her emojis, so many heart emojis, and at one point mid-romance-movie-Lena-can't-remember lamented that she couldn't kiss Lena in the rain because it was the summertime.

It's...weird, to say the least. Lena already can't wrap her head around Kara Danvers, but this—this is a change she hadn't been expecting.

(Lena has bothered Jess about it at least twice. The first time she'd said, rather incredulously, "Jess, I think Kara likes me."

Jess had sighed heavily, and with a dramatic roll of her eyes, said, " _Lesbians_.")

Maybe Lena is as oblivious as Jess says she is. She sits on the countertop while Kara works around her, apparently determined to bake a cookie recipe she found somewhere. Kara keeps absentmindedly eating the cookie dough in between measurements, and smearing flour across her cheeks; she's just too cute, and it's really not fair, and it doesn't help that whenever she catches Lena looking she smiles at her reassuringly.

"I've never really baked before," Kara admits halfway through, sheepishly sucking some melted chocolate off her thumb. "It looks so much easier in movies."

"You're doing great," Lena promises, but she's a weak woman and has to admit that she's really following Kara's mouth and its movements and not the actual baking. "Um, where's your bathroom, again?"

Kara gestures vaguely in its direction, and Lena gratefully takes that as an excuse to go.

She splashes cold water on her face and gives her reflection the best annoyed glare she can. She can't get distracted right now. She has a _goal_ , dammit, and even if Kara's acting like that she is determined to—

(The smoke alarm goes off.)

New plan: make sure Kara doesn't burn down her kitchen, first. Lena wipes her hands off on her shirt and goes outside again, calling out, "Kara? Is everything okay?"

Nothing prepares her for the sight of Kara dropping the baking sheet she'd been holding with her bare hands. It's still smoking when it crashes onto the kitchen tile, and Kara yelps, drawing her hands against her shirt in a panic.

"It's hot," Kara blurts out. "I forgot I left it in the oven, and now it's...burning?"

"Oh my God, Kara, why didn't you use oven mitts?" Lena asks, horrified; she can't see the damage, but she imagines Kara's palms must be burned to hell and back. "How bad is it? Should I take you to the hospital?"

"No! No, I just need to—" Kara nods towards the bathroom. "I'll be right back!" She disappears in a second, and Lena hears the door slam shut and the water start running.

The baking sheet, still wrapped in its plastic, remains smoldering. It's official: Lena has no idea what is up with Kara. Who would preheat a baking sheet, still unwrapped, and then take it out with their bare hands once it started burning? How would that even _occur_ to someone as a plausible thing to do?

Kara reemerges from the bathroom with her hands covered in colorful bandages, all of them so tightly wrapped that no hint of skin is visible. "I'm okay," she announces. "But I don't think baking is my thing."

Lena can't help it; she laughs, despite her worry. "Are you sure it's not serious?" she fusses, taking Kara's hands before she realizing what she's doing. "I can still take you to the ER just to be sure."

"I'm okay, I promise," Kara says, and then she's _holding_ Lena's hands, and gazing at her softly. "But thank you."

Lena feels her cheeks warm. "Okay," she relents quietly. "If you're sure." Her stomach is fluttering with butterflies again, but if Kara is similarly affected, she doesn't show it; instead, she takes Lena's hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

Then she lets go, and heads back to the mess of ingredients still on the counter like nothing's happened. "I have oreos in the pantry," she calls over her shoulder. "Do you want to get them out?"

"Sure," Lena says faintly, feeling like her skin's on fire.

"We can watch a movie if you want. Oh, or do you want to see the trees I planted? They take so long to grow so I didn't plant seeds, I bought the actual grown trees, but they're still small enough that they have time to grow. And I got a nice collection of chilis—"

Lena hugs the box of oreos against her chest and says, "Kara, I have to tell you something."

"About the trees?" Kara asks hopefully.

"No. It's...it's about Clark," Lena says.

In an instant, the cheerful expression on Kara's face drops. "What about him?"

"He's—God, I don't know how to say this." Lena swallows. "He's not actually my brother's son. And he hasn't left with his mom. He's actually at Jess's house, right now. The truth is, I-I don't know who his parents are."

Kara's mouth sets into a serious line. "Oh," she says. "So who is he to you?"

"I'm just trying to help him," Lena says. "I—I found him, sort of. He showed up on my doorstep and I didn't know what to do, so...I kept him here while I tried to find his parents. I know it's illegal and probably kind of weird, actually, now that I say it out loud but he doesn't have anyone and I didn't know what else to _do_ because he's—"

"Lena," Kara interrupts. Her eyes are sad, heavy with the emotion, really, but she also looks oddly _relieved_. "I think I know what you mean."

"You really don't," Lena protests. "The truth is—"

Before she can continue, Kara kisses her. Her bandaged hands are scratchy against Lena's cheeks, but her touch is firm, assured, and strong enough that Lena goes dizzy at the sensation. Her mouth tastes like chocolate and flour (though thankfully more chocolate), and the way she sucks on Lena's bottom lip is so gentle that Lena can't get enough.

When she breaks away, Lena has to have a moment to gather her thoughts. Kara's breath is warm against her lips, still, and her thumb traces along the edge of Lena's jaw in a way that keeps Lena weak at the knees.

"I really wanted to do that," Kara says. "I'm sorry." She lets go of Lena all at once, taking all the warmth with her. "I just remembered I have to go visit Alex today. Can we meet up some other time?"

"...okay," Lena agrees slowly. She lets Kara walk her out the door, and brush a kiss to her cheek before she goes, all in somewhat of a confused haze.

(Again: she has no idea what the _hell_ is going on.)

.

.

.

It might not be the most effective thing to do—and definitely not the safest—but Lena goes to visit Veronica Sinclair.

The card Lex had given her remains safely tucked in her wallet. She's glad she had the sense to think ahead, because when she arrives at the underground location she sees that everyone else, like she is, is dressed to the nines. Unfortunately, she's missed one detail: it looks like a masked party.

No one has the sense to show their faces. Figures. Lena snags a spare mask hanging out of a someone's coat pocket and makes her way inside. Lex's card grants her entrance; the bouncer only catches a glimpse of that gold ink and waves her through the double doors.

The majority of guests are milling around a large, sectioned-off area that has yet to be revealed. The rest talk amongst themselves, sipping at chutes of champagne and casting dubious look around the room.

Lena does neither. She makes her way towards the back, where she predictably finds Veronica surrounded by a large group of well-dressed men in masks. Veronica seems to be the only one without a mask tonight—for what reason, Lena isn't sure. Either way, Lena breaks into the group all too easily once she speaks up.

"Sorry to interrupt," she tells the nearest man graciously. "I was just wondering where a girl could find a place to smoke."

Veronica recognizes her instantly; Lena catches the exact moment she smirks. "I can help you with that," she says, tilting her head towards a nearby door. "Excuse me, gentlemen." She loops her arm with Lena's and leads her away, all the while flashing gracious smiles at everyone they pass.

The door leads to a small room, barely bigger than the average closet. It's stock full of heavy boxes, and Veronica perches on one as she appraises Lena carefully.

"So," she says, "I guess you don't actually care for a smoke."

"You guessed right." Lena takes the mask off her face and wipes at the sweat beading on her brow. "I'm surprised you didn't invite me to this yourself."

"Your brother insisted he be the one to do it," Veronica says. "And I wasn't sure you'd show, to be honest." She's curious, eyes never once leaving Lena's face. "Why _are_ you here? I can't imagine you missed me that much."

"I don't know," Lena says. "I still don't know what this is."

"Ah," says Veronica knowingly. "Well. That explains it." She looks somewhat disappointed, but that smirk of hers grows nonetheless. "Your brother must want me to do all his dirty work."

Lena frowns. "What do you mean?"

"He wants to convince you." Veronica stands up, dusting off her dress even though it's remained flawlessly unwrinkled. "I keep telling him you're a little too clean-cut for this."

"What is this?" Lena asks. "What exactly are you up to, Veronica?"

"I've found an opportunity," Veronica says simply. "You won't like it too much, I'm afraid. Maybe you should head home."

"Is that a threat?" Lena snaps. She feels frustrated at these mind games, at everyone hiding _something_ she can't full piece together, and Veronica's smirk finally falls.

But it's with a bittersweet understanding that Veronica says, "No. Of course not." She takes Lena's mask, and gently places it back on her face. "You can leave. I'll tell security to let you through before the main event."

"I can't go," Lena says. "I still don't know what you're up to. Or what you're doing with Lex."

"I'm not doing anything with him," Veronica says. "He has hopes I'll help him some way, I'm sure, but I wouldn't work with him willingly. I just want you to be safe, you know. And if I can't convince you to take his side, well—I worry what he might do."

Lena's heart sinks. "Don't tell me you agree with him," she says. The silence she gets in response is answer enough, and it feels like a betrayal. "Veronica. Whatever you're doing, please, you can't let it happen. You can't sink to his level."

"People are afraid, Lena," Veronica says. She doesn't sound particularly apologetic, but her eyes tell a different story. "They want to feel in control again. Tonight won't mean a lot to them now, but if your brother gets his way…"

"What exactly is the main event, Veronica?" Lena pleads. "What have you done?"

"What I had to," Veronica says grimly. "Listen, Lena. The answers you're looking for won't do you any favors. You need to get out of town if you can."

" _What_?"

"You have no connections to your family's company anymore. And you certainly don't need them either," Veronica says. "You have nothing to leave behind. I might not be as well-connected as your mother is, but I can get you out of here by tomorrow morning."

"Are you hearing yourself?" A fearful shiver goes down her spine. "I'm not going to leave my life behind just because you won't tell me what's going on. Can everyone stop being so _cryptic_ all of a sudden? I just want the damn truth. Can't you give me that? Even _once_?"

Veronica sighs. "You're the most stubborn person I've ever met," she says sadly. "I can't help you, Lena. But—" She has to pause before she admits it, and gives Lena the most resigned look of the night when she says, "My sponsors have been very explicit in their desire for underground fights. And I've managed to deliver."

"You don't mean…"

"Alien brawls," Veronica says. "I haven't recruited anyone unwilling, but—"

Lena can't keep listening. She shoves her way out of the stifling room, ignoring the way Veronica calls for her to wait. Security doesn't stop her by the time she reaches the entrance, so Veronica must have allowed them to let her pass. It makes no difference; Lena's still fuming, and she throws the mask into the trash in disgust the first instant she gets a chance to.

She knows she and Veronica were nothing more than kids when they knew each other. They hated each other and loved each other in the same breath, but they were still kids. And Lena knows better than to expect that Veronica's stayed the same.

But it hurts, just as much as Lex's betrayal had. Lena doesn't even call an Uber home, so preoccupied with getting as far away as she can that she's already halfway home by the time she remembers.

She still doesn't call one. Instead, she calls Winn. Before he can say hello she's confessed everything—what Veronica is doing, and how Lex is up to no good, and the fact that she almost died because of their failure to hack him properly.

"Don't say I told you so," Lena says once she's done. She has to stop to take off her heels when they start to hurt, and she sinks down onto a bench somewhere that isn't really safe to walk through shoeless. "I know I messed up."

The line is quiet for a moment. Then Winn starts to freak out. "This is all my fault," he says. "I should've listened to you, and now—he tried to _kill_ you?! I thought he was your brother! I thought he wouldn't do anything so—oh this is bad. This is so bad. We have to go to the police."

"And tell them what? We have no proof," Lena says. "They're already dismissing the incident as the work of some fanatic of my family's. It would be Lex's word versus mine, and with everything going on, I don't think I would win."

"There has to be something we can do. _Anything_. We can't let him get away with this!"

"No offense, Winn, but I think we have more pressing matters to attend to," Lena says. "We need to meet up at Jess's to discuss it. Can you be there in an hour?"

"Yeah. Okay. I can do that."

Lena casts a weary glance at the grimy sidewalk and adds, "Actually, is there any chance you can pick me up?"

.

.

.

They decide one thing: it's better to bring Clark back to Lena's.

Jess still has reservations about it, but he's clearly happier there. And now that Kara knows he isn't gone, she asks about him still; Jess glares at Lena endlessly for failing to keep the secret, but otherwise doesn't mention it.

Veronica wisely doesn't call. Lex doesn't, either, which leaves Lena wondering what his next move might be.

Winn has at least had a breakthrough with Lord Technologies. He's discovered something huge: they're manufacturing guns, lots of guns, but guns that are unlike any other. Winn is convinced they're alien tech, and somehow, Lord's gotten his hands on some to replicate.

Lena still feels like they're missing something. Large corporations are investing in more and more alien technology, and people like Veronica are doing shady business with aliens as well. None of it makes sense. Aliens have always been around, kept like an unspoken secret; they existed, but were not acknowledged. Now it seems like everyone's gearing up for an inevitable alien uprising, which wouldn't make sense.

"What do you think, Clark?" Lena asks as she stirs the tomato soup simmering on the stove. "Do you think we're close to a breakthrough yet?"

He's taken to crawling by now, and is currently on a mission trying to find any trash on the floor to shove into his mouth, but he pauses to gurgle out, "Ahh."

"Yeah, I figured as much." Lena turns back to the stove. "Maybe we should call Jess. Do you want to see Jess?"

"Esss," he gets out. He still hasn't said his first word yet, but he's close enough that it makes Lena's heart swell.

"She's probably working, but maybe she'll like something for dinner," Lena says. Satisfied with the soup, she covers it and heads to the fridge to get the block of cheddar cheese. She grates a few cups of it for sandwiches while she watches Clark explore, keeping an eye on his hands to make sure he somehow doesn't swallow anything he finds.

This all feels like the calm before a storm, to be perfectly honest. Lena feels like she's living on edge, just waiting for something that might not ever come. It causes her to consume far too much coffee and get far too little sleep, but at least she's had the chance to get some writing done.

"Cat's going to kill me," she tells Clark, remembering her unfinished novel guiltily. "Maybe I can get her to push back the release tour, if I can even get a book out this year."

"Eeee," Clark shrieks, crawling into the kitchen and heading right for a piece of cheese that's fallen to the floor.

Lena snatches it before he can. "Hey!" she says. "Not that, that's dirty. Come here, let me give you a banana."

He lets himself be lifted and only squirms a little, until he realizes what's happening. Lena cuts him half a banana with one hand and seats him into his high chair, placing a slew of banana slices on his tray. He smushes them between his hands and giggles, smearing banana much over his chin as he sucks on his fingers happily.

"I should've washed your hands," Lena says with a groan, but she's distracted by the sudden bubbling over of her pot. "What the—I just set this to simmer!" The lid had been a bit big for the pot, admittedly, so it doesn't do a good job of containing its contents.

She takes the pot off the burner and decides to salvage what's left. And while she waits for her soup to be microwaved instead, she takes out some butter and garlic salt to make a grilled cheese.

Then, because her mind's treacherous and she always seems to go off tangent, she starts thinking about Kara. She wonders if she likes grilled cheese, and whether or not she can manage to ruin soup while trying to cook.

She thinks about Kara a lot, actually. She still hasn't managed to work into any conversation that Clark is an alien, because every time she tries it doesn't work; either Kara manages to change the conversation, or she's doing something so distracting Lena doesn't get a chance to. They're also sort of almost-dating. But also not really.

All she knows is that they kiss each other a lot, and Kara has invited her over for "date night" lots of times (as in, she said those exact words). Lena feels like every romantic movie cliché, wondering if they're exclusive or if she should ask Kara formally to be her girlfriend. Should she make the first move? Does Kara even _want_ that, or is she still sticking firm to her plan not to get into a relationship?

Clark draws her out of her thoughts, smacking at his tray urgently.

"Whoa, Clark, remember what we talked about? Gently," Lena says, coming over to unhook his tray. "You already broke the last three."

To her surprise, he isn't bothered when she picks him up; lately he's been much more eager to move around his own. But this time when she holds him he holds back, so tightly she worries he's been spooked.

"What's wrong, baby?" Lena asks him. "Do you want some more?"

He's getting banana all over her hoodie, burying his face against her neck and fussing like he's about to cry any second. He keeps half leaning out of her arms, as if trying to point her somewhere, and Lena confusedly indulges him.

She walks him into the living room. "Do you want your walker? Is that it?"

He keeps urging her towards the door, eyes flashing red over and over again like a panicked response. Lena doesn't know the extent of his power, but clearly something is bothering him.

"Okay, okay," she says, trying to soothe him. "Let's go for a walk. Maybe you need some night air."

Before she can grasp the doorknob, she hears a crash from the kitchen. Clark starts to cry. Lena tries the door, but the lock is jammed. Frantically, she makes her way to the window for a way out, but it's too heavy to lift with Clark in her arms and he won't let go.

Heavy footsteps make her turn around. An unfamiliar man is in her apartment, a man she doesn't recognize, with a bandana over his mouth and dark sunglasses over his eyes. He's holding a gun in both hands, and doesn't hesitate to raise it when he sees her.

Lena's heart drops to the bottom of her stomach. She feels like she's going to be sick, physically sick, but she doesn't waste her time with any futile begging; she's already turning away, turning towards the window, shielding Clark with her body as he sobs against her chest.

There are three gunshots, all fired one after the other, each one so terrifying and _loud_ that Lena barely hears the crash of the window overhead.

The impact she had been expected never comes. When Lena turns around, quivering legs barely keeping her up, whoever had just tried to kill her is facedown on the floor being handcuffed. His gun, crumpled into a ball, is thrown haphazardly on the floor.

And Kara Danvers turns around to face her, button-up shirt riddled with exactly three bullet holes. Her hair is loose, flowing over her shoulders like it usually is most late nights, and when she whirls around like that it paints a dramatic picture; heroic, but withdrawn, because Lena has ever seen her like this—ashamed, that is.

Kara tears her eyes away as fast as they'd landed on Lena. She touches her ear and says, rather sharply, "This is Agent Zor-El. A move has been made on the subject. I repeat, a move has been made on the subject—the mission is compromised."

Lena feels like she can't breathe. A pressure is twisting her lungs inside of her chest, and it's making her insides churn, drawing all the moisture out of her mouth and leaving her faint like every cell in her body is shutting down.

"Who _are_ you?" she manages to get out, before it becomes too much; her head spins, and _throbs_ , and then everything falls to black.


	6. six

**i'm really bad at taking a break from writing apparently. wow. but this is the one (1) fic of mine that i was actually inspired to continue, so i figured i'd post the written chapter anyway! i'm still not going to write for my other fics, but i'm trying my best, promise ❤️**

 **celeste (florairmatylee on tumblr) read through this for me again! if there are any mistakes blame her lmao. thanks for reading, and for all the super nice reviews last chapter! i think i replied to them all, but if i didn't let me know - it's so hard to keep track on this website :(**

* * *

Lena doesn't know where she is.

There are spots of light, yellow and orange and red hues, all swimming before her eyes—and they're hazy, blurry really, so much so that they cause a dull ache between her temples. It takes her a minute to realize she's asleep, and when she blearily risks opening her eyes she feels faint.

It takes her another few minutes to work up the strength to sit up. She's on an unfamiliar bed, with cheap cotton sheets rumpled around her waist, and in a room so bare that she can see every crack of the wall, every chip of the tile on the floor.

The bed is the only piece of furniture in the entire room. Lena gingerly slides off it, and finds her shoes waiting for her by the door. Her hair is loose, frizzy and damp at her nape from her sweat, and she snags a hair tie off her wrist to grab it up as best as she can. Her clothes are wrinkled and she's slept in her jeans, somehow, but reality doesn't _really_ come crashing back to her until she's opened the door and wandered outside.

She's in Kara's house, and Clark is nowhere to be found.

Kara is asleep on the couch, still dressed in yesterday's clothes. Lena remembers; that shirt, ridden with bullet holes, has been burned into her memory. It hangs loosely on Kara now, untucked and unrefined, and Lena stares at it for too long that when Kara snaps to attention she startles.

"Lena?" Kara blinks at her blearily, and rubs at her eyes like she's afraid she's imagining this. "You're awake."

"I think so." Lena doesn't know what the proper reaction to what happened last night should be. So she does what she does best, and keeps it simple: "Do you have a spare toothbrush I can use?"

Kara's mouth opens wordlessly, and then she shuts it, dejectedly opting for a polite nod. "Top shelf," she says finally. "In the bathroom."

"Thanks."

Lena's mouth tastes like bile, and she has to brush her teeth twice before she's satisfied. She sees herself in the mirror, disheveled, eyeliner so smudged it looks like she has dark bags under her eyes. She forces herself to leave before she thinks too much about it; after all, Kara won't care what she looks like.

(Kara probably has never cared, come to think of it.)

When she emerges, she finds Kara in the kitchen. "Do you want some water?" Kara asks, already reaching for a glass before Lena can answer.

Lena watches her move and decides not to say that she really doesn't. She hovers by the center island and just observes, trying to figure out where her Kara ends and _Agent Zor-EL_ begins.

Kara sets the glass on the counter and tries to smile. "I ordered breakfast," she starts, but Lena can't hear any more.

She tugs Kara's sleeve until she moves, until she's right in front of Lena, and her eyes are so heavy with guilt—so _anguished_ —that Lena has to look away. She focuses on Kara's shirt, curling her fingertip in a bullet hole and meeting nothing but warm skin.

Kara shivers. "Lena," she says.

Lena lets go, and just then realizes that Kara isn't wearing her glasses. She spots the frames on the counter, and she examines them briefly; the frames are metal, sturdy, but the lenses are as insignificant as the glass of a window. "Tell me who you are," she says quietly, willing her voice not to break. "Please."

"I'm...me," Kara says. She gently takes her glasses back, hands lingering over Lena's for a beat too long. "I've always been me." But she seems to understand that's not the answer Lena is looking for. "My full name is Kara Zor-El. It's...well, it's not really _nice_ to formally meet you, but…"

"I see." Lena's hands fall back to the shirt. She twists the fabric between her fingers disbelievingly, over and over again, until her eyes are swimming. "You were shot. Three times."

"Yeah." There's something sheepish in the way that Kara drops her gaze, now. "Sorry about your window."

 _To hell with the window_ , Lena wants to say. She wants to yell it, actually, loud enough that she might feel something other than muddled confusion.

"You're an alien," Lena says, finally, the urge disappearing as quickly as it had come. "Just like Clark."

"I am," Kara says. She tugs at her own shirt now, but more pointedly. "I'm bulletproof. I was never in any danger. I'm sorry if I made you think I might have been."

"Is Clark," and Lena doesn't know where she's taking this, not really, and it comes out as, "is Clark bulletproof?"

Kara's expression becomes instantly pained. "I don't...I don't know," she stammers, and Lena doesn't know if it's true or not. The way Kara can't meet her eye seems like answer enough, but part of her is holding on to a sliver of hope.

"Where is he?" Lena asks. This time, her voice does break. "Where's Clark?"

"We took him in," Kara says.

Lena swallows so hard that it hurts; nausea makes her head spin, and all she can manage is, "Who's 'we'?"

Kara hesitates, jaw clenching so tightly that Lena sees the ripple of the muscle. But in an instant she's apologetic, every inch of her, eyes soft and shoulders slumped. "I'm not sure how much I'm legally allowed to tell you," she admits. "Alex and I, we...we work for the D.E.O. It's more commonly known as The Department of Extra-Normal Operations. Or, er, not so commonly, because it's a hidden branch of the government, so…" She fiddles with her shirt again, this time almost regretfully. "I know I haven't been very honest with you."

That's the understatement of the year, and Lena almost says so. She refrains when Kara lifts her head again, eyes glassy and wet like she's a second away from bursting into tears.

"Can you tell me what you can?" Lena asks. She means so much more with the question, like _can you tell me what was real, first_ , but it's a foolish thought.

"I'll try my best," Kara says, so reverently it's like it's a promise, and maybe that's the best that she can offer.

So Lena drinks some water, and chokes down powdered eggs from some fast food chain she doesn't ever visit, and then she and Kara sit down on her couch. Lena looks anywhere but Kara, and Kara doesn't push for anything else, as if she too needs to work up the nerve to actually speak.

Lena notices that the boxes that once lined the walls are gone. This couch is probably the second piece of furniture in the entire house, and soon it'll likely be gone too.

"Lena, I...I didn't want to lie to you."

The unexpected confession piques Lena's sense of morbid curiosity, but she stays unmoving, just listening, lest she betray her hurt.

"But it was necessary," Kara says. "My mission was very simple: I was supposed to arrest you quietly, and take Clark into our custody, because we had no idea what your motives were with him."

"And yet," says Lena tentatively, "here I am. Not arrested."

"We were uninformed," Kara says. "When we found out who you were, some of our agents were...skeptical about your intentions. We've been following Lex Luthor since his anti-alien stunt a few years ago, and—"

"So it's because I'm a Luthor," Lena says. It comes out more bitterly than intended, and when Kara tries to rest a hand on her leg, she flinches away. "Don't. I get it."

Kara's hand remains suspended in mid-air, and slowly, she brings it back to her lap. "I convinced the director to let me run surveillance," she says. "Just to figure out what you were doing with Clark. I knew you were innocent from the beginning, and I couldn't—it wouldn't be fair to treat you as guilty until proven innocent."

Lena drums her fingertips against the arm of the couch, just to give her hand something to do. "Well," she says hoarsely. "You've been watching me, trying to figure out my nefarious plans. I guess that explains a lot."

"I'm sorry," Kara breathes. Her voice is as pained as her expression is, torn between devastation and grief. "I know that makes up for nothing. But I'm so sorry. If I could change the past, I would. I would have never let this mission go on as long as it did."

"How much of it was real?" Lena asks before she can stop herself. "Did you even like me? Did you even want to get to know me? No. I'm sorry, that's a stupid question. Of course you didn't. You were just indulging my hopeless crush on you because you _had_ to."

The wetness of Kara's eyes comes back. "It wasn't like that."

"But it was, wasn't it? I kissed you and you kissed me back because you had to keep me close. Fuck, I'm an idiot." Lena inhales deeply, and she wills herself to turn away before Kara can see the frustrated bubble of tears in her own eyes.

"I kissed you back because I wanted to," Kara says, so quiet Lena almost doesn't hear her speak. "My whole life, I've been training to use my power for good, proving myself to everyone who knew my secret. I'm terrible at being human, but you...you still saw me, and you didn't see me as someone who had anything to prove. It was inappropriate and a break in protocol and—it was selfish. It was so selfish."

She reaches over to take Lena's hand, and it's like Lena's heart shoots up, getting lodged in her throat so tightly she can't breathe. Kara is looking at her so plainly, so _openly_ , as if to say _I'm here now_ , you can have me now, for real, and the first of Lena's tears fall.

"How could you do it?" Lena says, wrenching her hand away. She's shaking, now, and Kara's face falls. "How could you pretend like that? How—how could you let me fall half in love with you knowing you could never want me the same way?"

"I did want you," Kara whispers. "I wanted you so much it scared me. We were...I don't know what we were, but I liked it. I liked _you_. You made me feel more human than I have in years."

"Don't say that." Of all the betrayals she's been subjected to lately, this one hurts the most. "You don't...you don't have to keep pretending." Lena gets up on quivering legs, even as the tears burn her eyes so fiercely her vision blurs. "I have to go."

"Lena—"

But Lena doesn't give her a chance to explain. And Kara doesn't follow her out.

.

.

.

The world continues, even if Lena can't.

She tells Jess everything by accident. She doesn't know if she's allowed to say anything at all, but it doesn't matter; Clark's _gone_ , and Jess asks why, and somehow what should be a two-word answer about his whereabouts becomes a full hour or so of truly pitiful sobs.

Jess rests her cheek against the top of Lena's head and asks, "Do you want me to egg Kara's house? I'll egg her house."

And Lena would smile at that, if she weren't so depressed. "You can't," she says. "She's gone, too."

Jess goes quiet at that. Surely she's seen the empty driveway next door; surely she's _noticed_ that the house is empty again, and that Kara has left. "I'm sorry, Lena," she says, smoothing her hands over Lena's shoulders. "I thought she was different."

"I thought so too." Lena feels frustrated tears spring to her eyes, and she angrily wipes them away. "I don't know what to do now."

"Isn't it obvious?" Jess says. "We drink."

Lena can't argue with that logic. Jess pours them mediocre wine, and the last of Lena's Highland Park, and bumps her first glass soundly against Lena's in some sort of joke of a toast.

"It doesn't feel the same without him," Lena says quietly, and Jess doesn't have to ask who she's talking about.

"Yeah," agrees Jess glumly. "That little guy was the best. He was _this_ close to being able to say my name, I just know it." Lena nods mutely, but Jess goes on: "My sister isn't going to have kids, so how else would I have been the cool aunt?"

"Are you kidding? You were basically his mom," Lena teases, and Jess wrinkles her nose.

"No way," she argues, "that was _you_. That little boy loved you a lot, you know."

A stab of discomfort in her chest makes Lena shift, uneasy enough to accidentally spill some wine on her bed sheets. "I would have been a poor substitute for a mother," she says faintly. "Maybe it's better that he's gone."

"Shut _up_ ," Jess exclaims, voice already slurring around the edges. "This can't be it. We tried so hard to make sure he wouldn't be taken away by the wrong people, and guess what—he was! The government stole him and now they're going to dissect his brain."

"I don't think Kara would let that happen." Lena thinks of Kara's number, still stored in her phone even though she's debated deleting it time and time again. "I wish I could talk to her again."

"Me too," Jess mutters venomously. "I'll fight her."

"You can't do that, she's bulletproof."

"No kidding? Shit." Jess takes a swig straight from the whiskey bottle and says, a beat later, "So you said she was shot?"

Lena traces the rim of her glass pitifully. "Yeah," she says. "Three times."

Jess wordlessly passes her the whiskey. "Look at it this way," she says. "She saved your life. That's something, right? That has to mean something."

"Mean _what_?" Lena scoffs. "I doubt she wanted my blood on her hands. That's it." The next swig of whiskey burns less than the rest, and she takes a second just for good measure. "I'll be fine. Just...just give me a few days."

"To what, drink yourself to death?" Jess's sour expression softens. "Tell me what I can do to help you, Lena. If that means fighting someone who's bulletproof I'll do it."

"Don't be so dramatic," Lena laughs bitterly. "I appreciate it, but—you know there's nothing we can do to get Clark back, and Kara and I aren't even...we were nothing. I don't care about her anymore. I want to forget."

Jess seems to know that's not true, but she says, "Okay," because that's just the kind of person Jess is; she's faithfully held her tongue about everything else, so why stop now? "Drink up, then. You've got a lot of forgetting to catch up on."

"That, I can do." Lena rests her head against her arms and sighs, half-emptied bottle of whiskey hanging from her fingertips as she watches the liquid slosh against the sides. "Jess?"

"Yeah?"

"My brother's trying to kill me," Lena says. "And I don't know what to do. About anything, about everything...maybe Veronica's right. I should just leave town."

"The day you take advice from Veronica Sinclair is the day I die," Jess says. "Listen. We can't do anything about Clark, or your brother, but you know what we _can_ do?"

"Um," Lena tries to think, "cry?"

"We're going to give Kara a piece of your mind." Jess spills almost half a glass of wine on Lena's bed in her excitement, and the empty glass gets chucked onto the carpet hard enough to snap the stem. "Give me your phone."

"She's probably blocked my number," Lena mumbles, but she doesn't put up too much of a fight as Jess steals her cell phone from her back pocket. She doesn't put up a fight at all, really, and focuses instead on the whiskey bottle swinging. Left, right, left, right…

Jess puts the phone on speaker and dials. It's background noise at first, inconsequential and never-ending, but then there's a _click_ and a cautious voice says,

"Hello?"

The whiskey bottle falls. Kara's voice sounds so familiar, if slightly more hoarse, and it's enough to make Lena panic. "Jess," she hisses. "Jess, hang up."

For the first time in forever—mostly because of the alcohol—Jess doesn't listen. "Hey, jackass!" she all but yells into the receiver. "You suck and 'm gonna…'m gonna fight you."

"Wait, _Jess_? Where's Lena? Is she there with you?"

Lena snatches the phone out of Jess's hands. "Jess, shut up!" she whisper-shouts.

Unfortunately, Jess does _not_ , going on a rambling rant about how she doesn't care how bulletproof Kara is, she's still going to kick her ass. It gets too incoherent that Lena has to lock herself in the bathroom, Jess still going on faintly in the background; she rests against her door and exhales, allowing herself a moment to gather her thoughts and figure out what she's going to do.

Her phone is still on. Quietly, Kara's voice breaks through the silence: "Lena?"

It feels like her heart breaks all over again. "Hi," Lena manages.

"Hey." A beat of silence. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have answered."

"You're right, you shouldn't have." But Lena makes no move to hang up, and neither does Kara.

"Is there...any chance that you'd meet me for coffee? Just to talk," Kara is sure to tack on. "There's so much we didn't get to talk about."

"Are you in the area?" Lena asks dubiously.

"I can be," Kara responds, underlying hope as easy to read as a book.

Lena goes quiet. The logical side of her is begging her to hang up now, to decline, to leave. But her heart's tugging her in a completely other direction, and it's much harder to think when there's a tight ache in her chest.

"How's Clark?" she says, in lieu of an answer.

Now it's Kara's turn to go silent. "He's okay," she settles on, like she knows that's not what Lena is asking.

"Will I ever get to see him again?" Now the tightness is choking her, balling up at the base of her throat, sharp enough that it causes physical pain.

"I want to talk to you about Clark," is all Kara offers, hesitant in her delivery. "Will you consider it?"

Lena swallows. "Okay," she says. "I'll think about it."

.

.

.

"I'm surprised you agreed to meet me like this."

"I'm curious," Lena says. "It's not every day your ex-girlfriend tries to get you to leave the city."

At that, Veronica smiles—slightly, never enough to show any teeth. "I didn't know you thought we were girlfriends," she says. "Thank God you never told me that. I would've started running."

"You always were flighty," Lena says. "But you were young, I'll give you that much."

Veronica hands her a mug of tea. "Sugar?"

"No, thanks." Lena watches Veronica move; she does everything gracefully, smoothly, but there's an obvious waver to her actions.

Eventually Veronica takes a seat, crossing her legs as she takes a sip out of her own cup. "So," she says. "I would like to say, for the record, that this isn't a date."

Lena almost laughs. "I know," she says, amused. "I _am_ the one who suggested we meet. I think I'd know if it were a date."

"You can never be too sure." Some of the nervousness in Veronica's demeanor has faded, and she's back to her smug, self-satisfied self. "What can I do for you, then?"

"Lex tried to kill me again," Lena says, just to get straight to the point. She ignores the way Veronica's eyes widen, and continues, "I suppose you suspected he'd try to do that. That's why you wanted me to leave."

"What do you mean _again_?" Veronica asks tightly. "I knew he was coming unhinged, but I never thought he would do anything so…" She trails off, jaw visibly tense. "You're his sister. How could he do such a thing?"

"I don't think he cares, really," Lena says. "Not anymore." She forces herself to take a sip of jasmine tea to calm herself down. "But I'm not here to talk about my brother with you."

"Finally, what every girl wants to hear." Veronica looks at her carefully, like she isn't sure if she's supposed to be seeing her like this. "What are you here for?"

"I want to know more about what's going on," Lena says. "I know you've been trying to shield me from something, in your own...weird way, but I want you to tell me what it is. If you know anything about what my brother's up to—it could really help me out here."

Veronica sighs. "Do we really need to do this? Do I need to give you some long-winded speech about how you're too good for this, and the best thing you can do is leave before you get caught up in the crossfire?"

"You're welcome to, but we both know I won't listen."

"So you've grown a backbone since boarding school," Veronica says, and she laughs like she can't quite believe it. "I almost wish this was a date now." Before Lena can even respond, she's pushing her cup of tea aside and leaning forward, elbows on her knees as she becomes deadly serious. "I know you think I'm a monster. Maybe what I'm doing isn't the best way to go about things, I'll admit it. Have you heard about Gotham? It's corrupt. Terribly so. And they don't even _have_ a large alien population like our city does."

"Next we're going to get some kind of superhero vigilante. Is that what you're hinting at, here?" Lena asks, but she's already putting two and two together in her mind; it's running through her head, making the very ins and outs of her consciousness wild.

Veronica doesn't reply. She drops her gaze, and straightens back up. "It's sort of like an unsaid agreement," she says. "Congratulations. You're up to speed."

"Scapegoat the aliens," Lena says hollowly. "Mass hysteria. It explains the alien tech, the documentation, the need to…" She stops, and Veronica has the decency to look ashamed. "Why?"

"Apparently there's been a spike in alien crime. It's been kept pretty tightly under wraps," Veronica says. "I've only heard of a few cases myself."

"Alien crime," Lena repeats. "Do you know about the D.E.O?"

"The what?"

That brings her the smallest sense of relief. "Sorry," Lena says. "Just thinking out loud."

Veronica gets to her feet, busying herself with the task of pouring out her unfinished tea as she reaches for a tumbler of something stronger. "I feel like I'm over my head," she admits. "It's all supposed to be business, you know. But sometimes I wish I hadn't come here."

"You can still leave," Lena suggests. She fiddles with the edge of her teacup, some sort of expensive china she knows Veronica hasn't used in ages. "Move somewhere else. Start a new life."

"If this is your attempt to get me to run away with you, it's not going to work. I'm a very big fan of your face, but truthfully, I feel like we'd kill each other. Or at the very least drive each other mad." Veronica's brief lapse of emotion is masked by a teasing wink, and Lena feels a pang of sympathy for her.

Maybe she's still a tad nostalgic, but she says, "You're terrible at being evil."

"Am I evil? I didn't know that." But while her voice is dry, there's a soft thanks in Veronica's eyes. "Listen, I hate to be that girl, but I'm going to have to kick you out of my apartment pretty soon."

"Nothing new there," Lena jokes, feeble as it comes out, and she hates that she's suddenly very worried. "You probably have a hot date waiting for you."

"None that would compare to you, sweetheart," Veronica replies, but the cockiness of her smile is watered down. It doesn't have that typical flirty Veronica Sinclair magic, but it's still charming enough that it makes Lena smile back.

"Take care of yourself," Lena says suddenly. "And if you ever need anything, you know. Call me."

"That better not be a line." Veronica surprises her by resting a hand on her shoulder, like she'd been psyching herself to lean forward for a hug but couldn't go through with it. "Okay. Well. You be careful."

"You too." Lena leaves before she'll do something she'll regret—like spill about everything to her, too—because she knows what she has to do.

.

.

.

Kara still looks the same. Figures.

Lena takes her time to place her coffee order. Kara's picked a cafe she's never been to before, one that's quite a ways from Lena's house. It looks like Kara has already had a cup or three, because when Lena finally makes it back to the table she sees Kara bouncing her leg, fingertips dancing across the table.

"Hey. Hi," Kara blurts out. "Thanks for coming."

"Sure." Lena aims for an obligatory polite smile, but suspects it's nowhere near one. "You look nice."

Kara runs her hands through her hair and laughs. "Uh," she says. "Thanks? You look nice too. Great, actually. You look great."

Lena doesn't even know how long it's been since they last saw each other. A month? A month and a half? Certainly not long enough to act like it's been a while.

Kara clears her throat. "How's your book?"

"Let's not do the whole...how are yous," Lena says. "I'm fine. You're fine. Let's leave it at that."

"Oh. Okay." Kara blinks like she hadn't been expecting that. Maybe she hadn't. "It's good to know you're...fine."

Lena licks her suddenly dry lips and nods along. "Good," she says.

There's a second of hesitance on Kara's part, and then she ventures to say, "I know it's not my place to say, but I really care how you're doing. Because I care about you."

"Noted," says Lena stiffly.

Kara's face falls, and Lena regrets her reply instantly. "Well," she says, "I know you probably still have a lot of questions. I'm technically supposed to, er, get you to sign a few forms. Non disclosure agreements and all that."

"Right. I figured." Lena fiddles with her hands, not sure where to direct her attention. "Technically, do you exist?"

"Kara Danvers exists," Kara says. "In a limited sense. Alex's family, they sort of adopted me. But not really. I've been...I've kind of been the government's pet since I landed on Earth. Jeremiah Danvers was the first friendly face I met. He and Eliza...and Alex...they helped me feel human."

Lena feels herself frown. "You mean you were like a lab rat of sorts?"

"I mean, I guess you could say that." Kara tugs at her collar sheepishly. "I was thirteen, I was scared, and I'd landed in the backyard of some powerful government official who wanted to lock me up in a maximum security prison. The D.E.O was created to...sort of study me. Non-invasively! But also sort of invasively. In a mental sense. Not physical. And...I'm kind of over-explaining, aren't I?"

"Kara, I...I didn't know," Lena says. She's genuinely stunned, and doesn't know what to say. "Are they going to do that to Clark? We can't let them do that to him. We have to—"

"Oh, no! No, no, no, the D.E.O's changed since then," Kara is quick to assure her. "We've come a long way since its conception. I have to be honest, though. Our priority is taking care of alien threats."

"And Clark was a threat," Lena says skeptically.

"No." Kara looks guilty now, and it's not hard to figure out why once Lena hears the rest of her explanation: "The mission to get Clark was a favor to me. The director would've never let something like that happen otherwise. The truth is that Clark's my cousin."

The information steals Lena's breath away, makes her go instantly dizzy in the head. Just when she thought she'd finally had Kara Danvers—or Zor-El—figured out, she had to go ahead and throw a screw into the mix. "What?"

"I tried to persuade the director to let me tell you that, but he said it would be too much of a risk—in a second you'd guess my secret, and he was worried what you would do with that information." Kara sighs. "I'm really sorry about all of the lies. It was just my job to figure out your intentions, and debrief you on the details once I'd gained your trust. And I was going to do it soon, I swear—"

"But then my brother tried to kill me," Lena finishes, filling in the last of the blanks.

"That was the one rule," Kara says. "No harm could come to Clark. I was always supposed to intervene if a formal move was made on him."

"Of course." Lena doesn't know what to do, now. Laugh? Cry? Both? "You saved my life for him."

"I would've saved your life no matter what. You have to know that by now."

Lena meets Kara's eyes, a million questions running through her head, a million different things she wants to say. "What's his real name?" she asks softly.

Kara smiles, sadly. "Kal-El," she says.

"Is he happy?" Lena can't bring herself to care about the technicality of the mission anymore. Or even about her relationship with Kara. All she can think about is the baby she'd been trying to save—the baby who deserved a family. And now he'd found his.

But she doesn't feel fulfilled knowing that. Instead, she feels _empty_.

"He's safe," Kara says, which isn't an answer. "He's staying with me. And Alex."

"That's good." Lena doesn't know how it's come to this point, but she feels like crying. "It's great that he found his family."

Kara almost reaches out to touch her. Lena feels it; her hand hovers, the warmth of her skin so close that it feels like a jolt of electricity, and then she refrains. She pulls her hand back into her lap, and stares down at the table, and doesn't move.

"You don't owe him anything," Kara says finally. "You definitely don't owe me anything. But if you ever wanted to visit or something, I know—I know he'd love it. He likes the name Clark, did you know?"

"You would let me do that?" Lena's heart aches again, but this time for a different reason. "Really?"

"He loves you," Kara says, and there's some self-loathing in the way she says it, some tinge of pained jealousy. "I've ripped him from you, from the life he's known, and—I'm not ready to take care of him. I'm not ready. I've been waiting for him my whole life and I'm just...I'm not ready."

There seems like there's more that she's left out, like there's more to the story, because suddenly Kara looks close to tears and Lena's heart hurts—but for her. Her heart hurts for this woman she can't get over and she hates that it does.

"I wasn't ready for him either," Lena confesses. "He complicated my life so much. Just...threw my plans out the window, that kid." She's just bold enough to reach forward, to touch Kara's hand. "I think you and I have too much in common."

"In a bad way?" Kara tries.

"Maybe." Lena feels Kara slowly turn her hand around so they're palm-to-palm, and then she intertwines their fingers. "Or maybe not."

"I don't want you to hate me," Kara says. "I know I messed up, I know I let things go too far—"

"Let's not think about that right now." Lena forces herself to remember why she's here. "I'm...actually here for a more pressing reason than answers from you."

"Okay." Kara furrows her brow. "Like what?"

"Like...I need a favor."

.

.

.

Alex won't stop watching her.

It's kind of making Lena jumpy. Alex stares like she _glares_ , and even when Lena catches her eye she doesn't stop. It's like she's trying to win the world's most twisted staring contest, and Lena's losing so badly she'll never catch up.

Lena tries to break the tension in the room. "So," she says. "You've known Kara for a while."

"I'm her sister." For all of Alex's intense staring, her voice is light. "I guess you can say I know her a little, yeah."

"Sorry. It's just a lot to wrap my head around, you know," Lena says, gesturing vaguely around the small living room. "This might sound invasive, but—weren't you two fighting?"

"We were." Alex shrugs, and picks at the strings on her sweater almost like she needs a distraction from the topic at hand. "I didn't want her to take that stupid mission for her cousin. It was too close to home, and I knew she'd get her emotions all twisted, so...I tried to take the job. She wouldn't let me."

"Oh." Lena can't imagine a world where Alex had been the one to move in next door. It would certainly have been different. "That's, um, unfortunate."

Alex gives her a funny look. "Sure," she says. "Unfortunate."

That's the extent of their conversation. Kara thankfully comes out of her room, a barely-awake Clark in her arms. He sleepily gives their company a once-over, and then he seemingly snaps awake, nearly lunging out of Kara's grip as he flings his arms open towards Lena.

"Ma!" he screams, joyful and then frustrated when Kara worriedly pulls him back.

Lena feels like she's been struck by lightning. "I'm not…" she casts a horrified glance at Kara, who just gives her a wavering half-smile. "I never taught him that."

Kara slowly gets down to her knees, and then sets Clark down. He's a bit firmer with the way he stands, though he keeps a tight grasp on Kara's hands. He keeps his bright blue eyes trained on Lena, whining for her to move closer. When Lena hesitantly drops to her own knees, holding out her hand for him to take, he lets go of one of Kara's hands.

Lena holds her breath, not moving closer, and Clark moves his little legs a little. He's shaky in his movements, but his face scrunches in fierce determination and then he's moving for real. He drags Kara's hand as far as he can, and then he lets go of that one too, left with nothing but air around him as he toddles forward.

He's not seasoned enough to make it safely forward, but it doesn't matter. As soon as he tumbles forward Lena is there to catch him, crying against his hair as he buries his face into her neck.

"Ma, ma, ma," he babbles over and over again, chubby fingers digging into Lena's arms as he waits to be carried.

"Hi, baby," Lena breathes against his head. "I missed you."

Clark refuses to leave her side after that. He toddles around the low coffee table in the living room if he gets too tired of staying still, but mostly he's content hanging onto Lena's legs, happily smacking her jeans as he plays with the stuffed bear that Lena had brought over. It had been a gift from Jess, and one of his favorite toys, and he can't let go of that either.

Alex and Kara engage in casual conversation with Lena, stuff that's meaningless—weather, TV, even a few sentences about Lena's book. Lena lets them lead most of the talking; it still feels awkward, and there's nothing they can really do to fix that.

It's not until Clark finally falls asleep again that Alex breaks. "This is ridiculous, you know," she says. "With no evidence, Director Henshaw's going to laugh us out of the building."

"It's the D.E.O's job to deal with alien issues, isn't it?" Kara presses. "This is right up their alley!"

"It's the D.E.O's job to deal with alien threats," Alex corrects. "If what Lena is saying is true, there's nothing we can do except wait. Maybe once something more hard-hitting happens we can scrape up a case, but right now it doesn't look like we have any other choice but to let it go."

"Let it go?" Lena says. "I'm sorry, but I don't feel like waiting for my brother to start targeting innocent people to prove some twisted point of his."

"I don't like it anymore than you do. But he's already tried to kill you twice! Normally that would be a sign to, you know, lay low for a while," Alex says. "Look. The best we can hope for is an opportunity to uncover some part of this plot of his—or anyone's, if we get a chance. Any idea when something big is going to happen?"

That, Lena has no idea about. "If I talk to Veronica again—"

"We've looked into Veronica Sinclair," Alex cuts her off flatly. "She's not to be trusted."

"You don't know her like I do," Lena argues. "I know she might not seem like it, but she has a good heart. Somewhere. I know it."

"Just because she's your ex—"

"She is not!" Lena's eyes snap to Kara without meaning to. "Where did you hear that?"

Alex rolls her eyes. "I got a very thorough background check," she says, but one look from Kara makes her sigh. "Fine. You try it your way. I'll get a team together and see what we can dig up on—what was his name. Maxwell Lord? Get your contact my information so I can debrief him personally."

"Thank you." Lena texts Winn a head-ups about it. And a warning, just to be safe. "So tell me one thing: what does the D.E.O have on my mother?"

Kara and Alex exchange glances.

"And that's my cue to go," Alex decides, brushing imaginary lint off of her pants as she gets up. "I need a run anyway. I'll pick up dinner on my way back?"

As soon as Alex is gone, Lena wishes she hadn't let her leave. It's substantially more awkward now, if that's even possible, because Kara can't look at her and Lena still has a sleeping Clark in her arms and it feels—not for the first time—like she's intruding.

Kara coughs. "We've sort of been...following your mother too," she admits, when the silence drags. "She'd taken an interest in Project Cadmus. We think she's taken over as the head, actually."

"Project Cadmus," Lena says, trying the odd name on her tongue. "What is that, exactly?"

"It used to be part of the D.E.O operations," Kara says. "It was a clinic, used to test the aliens we captured. But it went rogue early on—doctors were treating it like a laboratory, and doing experiments on the patients. The D.E.O formally removed it from the building, but it seems to have resurfaced as a separate terrorist organization."

"And you think my mother is somehow involved," Lena says. Her phone buzzes with a questioning text from Winn, but she sets aside for now. "That's insane."

Kara grimaces. "I'm sorry," she says.

"No. Come on, you're kidding, right? My mother's cold, she's callous, but she's—she's not the devil incarnate," Lena says. "Every kid thinks their stepmom is evil, but she's…she can't be."

"Your brother wasn't always like this, too," Kara reminds her gently, as if Lena hasn't agonized over that for ages.

Lena feels like every resolve of hers is collapsing; there are only so many surprises she can take. "Fantastic," she says. "I guess that's a sign to go back to the drawing board for now?"

"We'll figure it out," Kara promises, and her eyes fall on Clark; Lena gets the sense she's talking about more than the crisis on hand.

.

.

.

Lena doesn't try to think about her relationship with Kara often.

She still doesn't know where they stand. Is she upset that Kara lied to her so much? Absolutely. Does she understand Kara's motives? Yes, she's not a monster. Kara's confided in her about what happened to her planet—to her family—and Lena can't begin to imagine the toll that must have taken on such a young girl.

Bit by bit, the truth about Kara Zor-El is coming out. She tells Lena about the technology of her planet, about her mother's job, about the heavier implications of being sent out to space with her single solitary mission being protecting Kal-El.

("That seems like a lot of responsibility for a kid," Lena had said when she first heard about it.

Kara had looked pensive then, staring off into the distance with a crinkled brow. "Yeah," she'd said quietly. "It was.")

Lena isn't about to play with fire. She leaves things as is, and if that means she's weirdly heartbroken and also weirdly _not_ , then she'll put her heart through that. Clark matters most, and he needs them both, selfish as that makes Lena sound.

Lena's been spending more and more time at Kara's cramped apartment. Sometimes she catches Kara looking out over the brick balcony, down at the bustle of the street below, and she knows that Kara is missing her garden.

"I feel like it used to be simpler," Lena tells Kara one day like that, when Kara is leaning over the balcony railing. "Back when I didn't know about you."

Kara eyes her skeptically, out of the corner of her eye. "It was," she says, after a moment.

"It was easier with Clark too." Lena comes to stand beside Kara, not close enough their arms brush, but if she were to inch slightly to the left their elbows might touch. "You know, I'm not Clark's mother. I'm not his...anything."

Kara doesn't flinch at the sudden closeness. "I wouldn't ask you to be anything," she says. Her expression is muted, much like the calm before a storm.

"You don't get it, Kara. I'm literally no one to him. I took care of him for a little while, and he likes me enough, but I'm not his family. Not like you are." Lena feels flustered; this attempt at cheering Kara up is already off to a bad start. "If you'll let me, though...I'd like to be in his life. I know I'm not anyone important to you either—"

"You're my friend," Kara cuts her off. There's the barest hints of a blush creeping up her neck, and she rubs at shoulder clumsily as she laughs somewhat awkwardly. "I mean...I hope we're still friends."

It's no secret that they're terrible at being friends, and the way Kara looks at her tells Lena all she needs to know about that. But Lena humors her anyway.

"Friends," Lena says. "Alright. I can be your friend who casually hangs out with your cousin. Hopefully he'll get out of the habit of calling me 'ma,' though. Which for the record, Jess taught him—she spilled."

"Makes sense." Kara's smiling at her more genuinely than she has in weeks, and they might not be okay, but they're on the path to something like it.

Before Lena can think about it too much, she's leaning forward, and she kisses Kara right there—the cars hum beneath them, and the sun beats a bit too harshly, and Alex is inside playing rock music that Clark hates—but it feels right. When she pulls back Kara's lips are still a little puckered, but her eyes are open and she's blinking rapidly like she's trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

"I don't know if I forgive you," Lena says, because it needs to be said. Suddenly she's realizing that she has no justification for that kiss beyond that she'd wanted to do it, and it makes her swallow thickly.

"Oh." Kara's disappointment is palpable, but she makes an effort to hide it anyway. "I understand."

"No, it's—it's not fair to you. I'm sorry I did that."

"It's okay." Kara stares out at the skyline, and then says, "We've had no breakthroughs, and nothing but radio silence from our contacts. Things happen when you're bored."

If Lena were trying to be vengeful she'd agree. She'd call it a thing of boredom, she'd call their entire relationship meaningless, she'd put as little emotional value as possible into every interaction she has with Kara. But she can't be that mean. She's not capable of it. Hell, she's not strong enough to even act like it.

She watches Kara, and the tired lines of her face, and wishes she could say something else. Something that would make her smile—something that would make her turn to face Lena, something that would make her laugh, so that the sunlight could bounce off of her hair and illuminate the beautiful curves of her smile. Anything that would bring back clumsy, well-meaning, and (to be frank) terrible human Kara Danvers.

But Kara Zor-El is different than Kara Danvers, with so much weight on her shoulders that she's suffocating, and Lena finally understands what it means to want something you can't have.

"No amount of talking is going to fix this, is it?" Lena says. "Go on. Get mad at me. I'll get mad at you back. And we can finally put this behind us."

Kara only frowns, mouth twisted confusedly. "I'm not mad at you," she says.

"Then _I'm_ mad at you," Lena says. The admission surprises her just as much as it does Kara; she'd thought she had her feelings under control, and here they are, causing her more problems. "I'm pissed, actually, because you lied to me. A lot. I was tearing myself apart with guilt from never finding Clark's family, and there you were this whole time. You could have saved me a hell of a lot of heartbreak if you'd just fucking _arrested_ me."

"Lena," Kara says, and she sounds defeated as she says it. "I trusted you. And I was right about you. You're good, and you've always been good, and I'm sorry—but if I had to do it again, I'd pick this direction every time."

"Well that's a very fucked up way to think." It feels liberating to get it off her chest, like her anger's overflowing straight from the tightness in her chest. "I'm a person, not something that you had to maneuver around. You could've just told me! At any point in time, you could've just told me!"

"I know—"

"You know? Do you really?" A few hot tears slip down her cheeks now, and if Lena were thinking clearly she'd have the sense to feel embarrassed about them. "I want to hate you so much. I should hate you. But I've had enough of lies and I don't hate you."

Lena is breathing hard like she's been shouting even if she hasn't when she's done, chest heaving with each sharp intake of breath, but Kara keeps her eyes on Lena's like holding onto a lifeline. Her hands come to rest on Lena's arms, and Lena doesn't even push her away. There's hurt in every hint of Kara's expression, from the shininess of her eyes to the deep lines of her frown, and Lena takes it all in without a word.

Her thumb swipes over the apple of Lena's cheek lightly, her knuckles dragging just after it as she wipes some of the tears away. "I'm sorry," Kara says, so low that Lena has to strain to listen. "I wouldn't blame you if you hated me."

"Do you have to be so nice about everything?" Lena sniffles, the fight being drained out of her in one silent sob. "Just yell at me or something. Tell me I've ruined your life. Tell me you're mad that I can't figure out what I want. Tell me you want me to stay far away from you and your family."

Kara's hand unfolds, and comes to rest tenderly against Lena's face. "I can't do that," she says. "I can't lie to you again."

She catches Lena when she all but falls against her. Lena's hands are balled into fists that she presses against Kara's chest but she doesn't push her away; she rests her forehead against Kara's shoulder and cries, and cries, and Kara holds her tight without another word.


End file.
